You’re My Religion. You’re All I’ve Got.

The House Was Built On The Highest Part Of The Narrow Tongue Of Land Between The Harbor And The Open Sea. It Had Lasted Through Three Hurricanes And It Was Built Solid As A Ship.

Perhaps I Should Not Have Been A Fisherman, He Thought. But That Was The Thing That I Was Born For.

Every Man's Life Ends The Same Way. It Is Only The Details Of How He Lived And How He Died That Distinguish One Man From Another.

I Was As Afraid As The Next Man In My Time And Maybe More So. But With The Years, Fear Had Come To Be Regarded As A Form Of Stupidity To Be Classed With Overdrafts, Acquiring A Venereal Disease Or Eating Candies. Fear Is A Child's Vice And While I Loved To Feel It Approach, As One Does With Any Vice, It Was Not For Grown Men And The Only Thing To Be Afraid Of Was The Presence Of True And Imminent Danger In A Form That You Should Be Aware Of And Not Be A Fool If You Were Responsible For Others.

In Company With People Of Your Own Trade You Ordinarily Speak Of Other Writers' Books. The Better The Writers The Less They Will Speak About What They Have Written Themselves. Joyce Was A Very Great Writer And He Would Only Explain What He Was Doing To Jerks. Other Writers That He Respected Were Supposed To Be Able To Know What He Was Doing By Reading It.