These critics who crucify me do not guess the littlest part of my sincerity. They must be burned in a blaze. I cannot learn from them.
I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.
What is writing but an expression of my own life?
Adam Larey gazed with hard and wondering eyes down the silent current of the red river upon which he meant to drift away into the desert
I love my work but do not know how I write it.
It was a decent New Year's, but it took a million officers to make it so.