It Has Long Been My

Work Accomplished Means Little. It Is In The Past. What We All Want Is The Glorious And Living Present.

From The Place By The Railing At The Edge Of The Tracks On The Summer Evening I Return Across The City To My Own Room. I Am Vividly Aware Of My Own Life That Escaped The Winter On The Boat. How Many Such Lives I Have Lived. Then I Only Made A Dollar And A Half A Day And Now I Sometimes Make More Than That In A Few Minutes. How Wonderful To Be Able To Write Words. ... Again I Begin The Endless Game Of Reconstructing My Own Life, Jerking It Out Of The Shell That Dies, Striving To Breathe Into It Beauty And Meaning. ... I Wonder Why My Life, Why All Lives, Are Not More Beautiful.

You Can Make It All Right If You Will Only Be Satisfied To Remain Small," I Told Myself. I Had To Keep Saying It Over And Over To Myself. "be Little. Don't Try To Be Big. Work Under The Guns. Be A Little Worm In The Fair Apple Of Life.

You Must Not Become A Mere Peddler Of Words. The Thing To Learn Is To Know What People Are Thinking About, Not What They Say.

When A Man Publishes A Book, There Are So Many Stupid Things Said That He Declares He'll Never Do It Again. The Praise Is Almost Always Worse Than The Criticism.