It Is Better To Go In The

The Printed Page Was Like Wine To Me.

Coming, As I Do, From Mountain Folk On One Side And Sea Followers On The Other, There Are Few Old Songs Of The Hills Or The Sea With Which I Am Not Familiar.

Over The Souls Of Men Spread The Condor Wings Of Colossal Monsters And All Manner Of Evil Things Prey Upon The Heart And Soul And Body Of Man. Yet It May Be In Some Far Day The Shadows Shall Fade And The Prince Of Darkness Be Chained Forever In His Hell. And Till Then Mankind Can But Stand Up Stoutly To The Monsters In His Own Heart And Without, And With The Aid Of God He May Yet Triumph.

When I Cannot Stand Alone, It Will Be Time To Die.

I See In The Papers Where Roy Guthrie Committed Suicide. Why, I Wonder?