Realism Is Death To Me. I Cannot

There Are Hours When I Must Force The Novel Out Of My Mind And Be Interested In The Children.

I Arise Full Of Eagerness And Energy, Knowing Well What Achievement Lies Ahead Of Me.

There Are Always Greater Fish Than You Have Caught, Always The Lure Of Greater Task And Achievement, Always The Inspiration To Seek, To Endure, To Find.

What Is Writing But An Expression Of My Own Life?

Jealously Was An Unjust And Stifling Thing.