I Shall Try To Tell The Truth,

Untrained Minds Have Always Been A Nuisance To The Military Police Of Orthodoxy. God-intoxicated Mystics And Untidy Saints With Only A White Blaze Of Divine Love Where Their Minds Should Have Been, Are Perpetually Creating Almost As Much Disorder Within The Law As Outside It.

A Story Is Like Something You Wind Out Of Yourself. Like A Spider, It Is A Web You Weave, And You Love Your Story Like A Child.

Now And Again Thousands Of Memories Converge, Harmonize, Arrange Themselves Around A Central Idea In A Coherent Form, And I Write A Story.

All Working, Practical Political Systems, Even Those Professing To Originate In Moral Grandeur, Are Based Upon And Operate By Contempt Of Human Life And The Individual Fate.

I Was Right Not To Be Afraid Of Any Thief But Myself, Who Will End By Leaving Me Nothing.