No Man Can Be Convinced

Never The Less, At The Age Of Fifteen, Having Never Seen A Writer, A Poet, A Publisher Or A Magazine Editor, And Having Only The Vaguest Ideas Of Procedure, I Began Working On The Profession I Had Chosen.

For Man's Only Weapon Is Courage That Flinches Not From The Gates Of Hell Itself, And Against Such Not Even The Legions Of Hell Can Stand.

Break The Skin Of Civilization And You Find The Ape, Roaring And Red-handed.

How Can I Wear The Harness Of Toil And Sweat At The Daily Round, While In My Soul Forever The Drums Of Pictdom Sound?

Time And Times Are But Cogwheels, Unmatched, Grinding On Oblivious To One Another. Occasionally - Oh, Very Rarely! - The Cogs Fit; The Pieces Of The Plot Snap Together Momentarily And Give Men Faint Glimpses Beyond The Veil Of This Everyday Blindness We Call Reality.