Realism is death to me. I cannot stand life as it is.
No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.
I hope I have found myself, my work, my happiness - under the light of the western skies.
Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.
Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.