Boredom Is A Pleasing Antidote For Fear

Once A Person Gave His Talent To The World, The World Put A Stamp Upon It. The Talent Was Not A Personal Possession Any More. It Was Something To Be Traded, Bought And Sold. It Fetched A High Price, Or A Low One. It Was Kicked In The Common Market.

Writers Should Be Read, But Neither Seen Nor Heard.

All Whispers And Echoes From A Past That Is Gone Teem Into The Sleeper's Brain, And He Is With Them, And Part Of Them.

I Wondered How Many People There Were In The World Who Suffered, And Continued To Suffer, Because They Could Not Break Out From Their Own Web Of Shyness And Reserve, And In Their Blindness And Folly Built Up A Great Distorted Wall In Front Of Them That Hid The Truth.

I Thought Of All Those Heroines Of Fiction Who Looked Pretty When They Cried, And What A Contrast I Must Make With A Blotched And Swollen Face, And Red Rims To My Eyes.