Nothing Is So Musical As

The Writer Must Hew The Phantom Rock.

Because In Some Men It Is In Them To Give Up Everything Personal At Some Time, Before It Ferments And Poisons--throw It To Some Human Being Or Some Human Idea. They Have To.

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter With Only One Desire! To Find Some Lasting Comfort In The Arms Of Anothers Fire...driven By A Desperate Hunger To The Arms Of A Neon Light, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter When There's No Sign Of Love In Sight!

A Writer Soon Discovers He Has No Single Identity But Lives The Lives Of All The People He Creates And His Weathers Are Independent Of The Actual Day Around Him. I Live With The People I Create And It Has Always Made My Essential Loneliness Less Keen.

For Fear Is A Primary Source Of Evil. And When The Question "who Am I?" Recurs And Is Unanswered, Then Fear And Frustration Project A Negative Attitude. The Bewildered Soul Can Answer Only: "since I Do Not Understand 'who I Am,' I Only Know What I Am Not." The Corollary Of This Emotional Incertitude Is Snobbism, Intolerance And Racial Hate. The Xenophobic Individual Can Only Reject And Destroy, As The Xenophobic Nation Inevitably Makes War.