No Fiction Is Worth Reading

I Do Not Believe That I Am Made Of The Stuff Which Constitutes Heroes, Because, In All Of The Hundreds Of Instances That My Voluntary Acts Have Placed Me Face To Face With Death, I Cannot Recall A Single One Where Any Alternative Step To That I Took Occurred To Me Until Many Hours Later.

We Are, All Of Us, Creatures Of Habit, And When The Seeeming Necessity For Schooling Ourselves In New Ways Ceases To Exist, We Fall Naturally And Easily Into The Manner And Customs Which Long Usage Has Implanted Ineradicably Within Us.

So Strong Is The Power Of Superstition That Even Though We Know That We Have Been Reverencing A Sham, Yet Still We Hesitate To Admit The Validity Of Our New-found Convictions.

I Love You, And Because I Love You I Believe In You. But If I Did Not Believe, Still Should I Love. Had You Come Back For Me, And Had There Been No Other Way, I Would Have Gone Into The Jungle With You - Forever.

I Had This Story From One Who Had No Business To Tell It To Me, Or To Any Other. I May Credit The Seductive Influence Of An Old Vintage Upon The Narrator For The Beginning Of It, And My Own Skeptical Incredulity During The Days That Followed For The Balance Of The Strange Tale.