It ain't whatcha write, it's the way atcha write it.

Write in recollection and amazement for yourself.

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all

Goddamn it, FEELING is what I like in art, not CRAFTINESS and the hiding of feelings.

But there's no joy at all, people say "Oh well he's drunk and happy let him sleep it off"--The poor drunkard is *crying*--He's crying for his mother and father and great brother and great friend, he's crying for help. (p.111)

...most of the time we were alone and mixing up our souls ever more and ever more till it would be terribly hard to say good-by.

Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind.