Work is my salvation. It changes my moods.
There was never an angler who lived but that there was a fish capable of taking the conceit out of him.
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.
Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.