I Had Killed A Big

Most Of The Basic Material A Writer Works With Is Acquired Before The Age Of Fifteen.

The Great Fact In Life, The Always Possible Escape From Dullness, Was The Lake. The Sun Rose Out Of It, The Day Began There; It Was Like An Open Door That Nobody Could Shut. The Land And All Its Dreariness Could Never Close In On You. You Had Only To Look At The Lake, And You Knew You Would Soon Be Free.

If Youth Did Not Matter So Much To Itself, It Would Never Have The Heart To Go On.

The Irregular And Intimate Quality Of Things Made Entirely By The Human Hand.

To Fulfil The Dreams Of One's Youth; That Is The Best That Can Happen To A Man. No Worldly Success Can Take The Place Of That.