Nothing Is More Consuming, Or More Illogical,

It Is Lovely, When I Forget All Birthdays, Including My Own, To Find That Somebody Remembers Me.

It Would Appear, From The Best Examples, That The Proper Way Of Beginning A Preface To One's Work Is With A Humble Apology For Having Written At All.

...america Has Enjoyed The Doubtful Blessing Of A Single-track Mind. We Are Able To Accommodate, At A Time, Only One National Hero; And We Demand That That Hero Shall Be Uniform And Invincible. As A Literate People We Are Preoccupied, Neither With The Race Nor The Individual, But With The Type. Yesterday, We Romanticized The "tough Guy;" Today, We Are Romanticizing The Underprivileged, Tough Or Tender; Tomorrow, We Shall Begin To Romanticize The Pure Primitive.

As Far Back As I Remember, Long Before I Could Write, I Had Played At Making Stories. But Not Until I Was Seven Or More, Did I Begin To Pray Every Night, "o God, Let Me Write Books! Please, God, Let Me Write Books!"

...i Had Grown Up In A World That Was Dominated By Immature Age. Not By Vigorous Immaturity, But By Immaturity That Was Old And Tired And Prudent, That Loved Ritual And Rubric, And Was Utterly Wanting In Curiosity About The New And The Strange. Its Era Has Passed Away, And The World It Made Has Crumbled Around Us. Its Finest Creation, A Code Of Manners, Has Been Ridiculed And Discarded.