The Whole World Shall Be

Every Time One Leaves Anywhere, Something Precious, Which Ought Not To Be Killed, Is Left To Die.

Whenever I Prepare For A Journey I Prepare As Though For Death. Should I Never Return, All Is In Order.

I Am A Recluse At Present & Do Nothing But Write & Read & Read & Write

How Hard It Is To Escape From Places. However Carefully One Goes They Hold You — You Leave Little Bits Of Yourself Fluttering On The Fences — Like Rags And Shreds Of Your Very Life.

There Are In Life As Many Aspects As Attitudes Towards It, And Aspects Change With Attitudes.