Jealously Was An Unjust And Stifling Thing.

What Makes Life Worth Living? Better Surely, To Yield To The Stain Of Suicide Blood In Me And Seek Forgetfulness In The Embrace Of Cold Dark Death.

I See So Much More Than I Used To See. The Effect Has Been To Depress And Sadden And Hurt Me Terribly.

I Confess That Reading Proofs Is A Pleasure. It Stimulates And Inspires Me.

Writing Was Like Digging Coal. I Sweat Blood. The Spell Is On Me.

I Can Write Best In The Silence And Solitude Of The Night, When Everyone Has Retired.