A World In Everlasting Conflict

Life Would Die Without Poets, And Democracy Must Have Its Spellbinders.

I Write The Big Scenes First, That Is, The Scenes That Carry The Meaning Of The Book, The Emotional Experience.

A Foul-mouthed Oaf, A Drunken Laborer Lying In A Drain, A Beaten Wife With Blackened Eyes And Torn Clothes, Cannot Be Made Romantic To A Child Who Sees How Other Children Suffer From Bad-tempered Parents, From Drunken Fathers To Termagant Mothers.

Funeral Expenses Are The Curse Of The Poor Everywhere On Earth, They Are Wasteful And Unnecessary, They Are The Price Of Foolish Ostentation And A Display That Is Less An Evidence Of Grief Than A Vulgar Travesty Of Those Pompous Obsequies Where No Grief Is.

I Look Upon Life As A Gift From God. I Did Nothing To Earn It. Now That The Time Is Coming To Give It Back, I Have No Right To Complain.