I Am Tired. My Arm

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.

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.

Fishing Is A Condition Of Mind Wherein You Cannot Possibly Have A Bad Time.

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

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