All Literature Is An Effort

Literary Party: A Traffic Jam Of The Lost Waiting For The Ferry Across The Styx.

I Got Married The Second Time In The Way That, When A Murder Is Committed, Crackpots Turn Up At The Police Station To Confess The Crime.

Love Is The Tact Of Every Good, The Only Warmth, The Only Peace.

How The False Truths Of The Years Of Youth Have Passed!have Passed At Full Speed Like Trains Which Never Stoppedthere Where I Stood And Waited, Hardly Aware,how Little I Knew, Or Which Of Them Was The Oneto Mount And Ride To Hope Or Where True Hope Arrives.

I Admired My Father Very Much... At The Age Of Sixteen. But Now I See That He Was A Brutal And Cruel Man, - But Not Without Remorse, And That Was What Tortured Us, His Alternations.