Life Is But A Web Spun Of

Some Mechanism In My Sub-consciousness Took The Dominant Characteristics Of Various Prize-fighters, Gunmen, Bootleggers, Oil Field Bullies, Gamblers, And Honest Workmen I Had Come In Contact With, And Combining Them All, Produced The Amalgamation I Call Conan The Cimmerian.

Coming, As I Do, From Mountain Folk On One Side And Sea Followers On The Other, There Are Few Old Songs Of The Hills Or The Sea With Which I Am Not Familiar.

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.

When A Nation Forgets Her Skill In War, When Her Religion Becomes A Mockery, When The Whole Nation Becomes A Nation Of Money-grabbers, Then The Wild Tribes, The Barbarians Drive In... Who Will Our Invaders Be? From Whence Will They Come?

Rome Got Some Peachy Pastings When She Tried To Lick The Irish.