The Poem You Sent Me Was As

A Kingdom Is Not Lost By A Single Defeat.

The Sea-road Is Good For Wanderers And Landless Men. There Is Quenching Of Thirst On The Grey Paths Of The Winds, And The Flying Clouds To Still The Sting Of Lost Dreams.

We're Making Tin Gods Out Of Those Poor Buffoons In Hollywood; I Dote On Movies And Appreciate The Scanty Art Therein But I Consider The Profession About The Most Debased And Debasing I Know.

The People Among Which I Lived - And Yet Live, Mainly - Made Their Living From Cotton, Wheat, Cattle, Oil, With The Usual Percentage Of Business Men And Professional Men.

He Was . . . A Strange Blending Of Puritan And Cavalier, With A Touch Of The Ancient Philosopher, And More Than A Touch Of The Pagan. . . . A Hunger In His Soul Drove Him On And On, An Urge To Right All Wrongs, Protect All Weaker Things. . . . Wayward And Restless As The Wind, He Was Consistent In Only One Respect—he Was True To His Ideals Of Justice And Right. Such Was Solomon Kane.