Writers Have A Rare Power

She Was Snatched Back From A Dream Of Far Countries, And Found Herself On Main Street.

Fortune Has Dealt With Me Rather Too Well. I Have Known Little Struggle, Not Much Poverty, Many Generosities. Now And Then I Have, For My Books Or Myself, Been Somewhat Warmly Denounced -- There Was One Good Pastor In California Who Upon Reading My Elmer Gantry Desired To Lead A Mob And Lynch Me, While Another Holy Man In The State Of Maine Wondered If There Was No Respectable And Righteous Way Of Putting Me In Jail.

So Much In A Revolution Is Nothing But Waiting.

The World And All Its Wisdom Is But A Booby, Blundering School-boy That Needs Management And Could Be Managed, If Men And Women Would Be Human Beings Instead Of Just Business Men, Or Plumbers, Or Army Officers, Or Commuters, Or Educators, Or Authors, Or Clubwomen, Or Traveling Salesmen, Or Socialists, Or Republicans, Or Salvation Army Leaders, Or Wearers Of Cloths.

Now Is A Fact That Cannot Be Dodged.