Jealously Was An Unjust And Stifling Thing.

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

These Critics Who Crucify Me Do Not Guess The Littlest Part Of My Sincerity. They Must Be Burned In A Blaze. I Cannot Learn From Them.

I Am Tired. My Arm Aches. My Head Boils. My Feet Are Cold. But I Am Not Aware Of Any Weakness.

I Need This Wild Life, This Freedom.

Work Is My Salvation. It Changes My Moods.