You Must Not Become A

The Life Of Reality Is Confused, Disorderly, Almost Always Without Apparent Purpose, Whereas In The Artist's Imaginative Life There Is Purpose. There Is Determination To Give The Tale, The Song, The Painting, Form -- To Make It True And Real To The Theme, Not To Life.

It Is No Use. I Find It Impossible To Work With Security Staring Me In The Face.

Work Accomplished Means Little. It Is In The Past. What We All Want Is The Glorious And Living Present.

The Writer, An Old Man With A White Moustache, Had Some Difficulty Getting Into Bed.

I Feel That I Am Writing Out Of A Full Life. I Am A Rich Man, Rich In Men Known, In Adventures Had. I Am Rich With Living.