Realism Is Death To Me. I Cannot

Love Grows More Tremendously Full, Swift, Poignant, As The Years Multiply.

This Motion-picture Muddle Had Distracted Me From My Writing.

I Am Full Of Fire And Passion. I Am Not Ready Yet For Great Concentration And Passion.

I Will See This Game Of Life Out To Its Bitter End

Before Exulatation Had Vanished, I Felt As If I Had Been Granted A Marvellous Privilege. Out Of The Inscrutable Waters A Beautiful Fish Had Somehow Leaped To Show Me Fleetingly The Life And Spirit Of His Element.