In the struggle between yourself and the world second the world.
I am away from home and must always write home, even if any home of mine has long since floated away into eternity.
No sooner said than done - so acts your man of worth.
Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.
Please — consider me a dream.
Books are a narcotic.