When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly And

What Profession Is More Trying Than That Of Author? After You Finish A Piece Of Work It Only Seems Good To You For A Few Weeks; Or If It Seems Good At All You Are Convinced That It Is The Last You Will Be Able To Write; And If It Seems Bad You Wonder Whether Everything You Have Done Isn’t Poor Stuff Really; And It Is One Kind Of Agony While You Are Writing, And Another Kind When You Aren’t.

Gin And Drugs, Dear Lady, Gin And Drugs.

Whatever You Think, Be Sure It Is What You Think; Whatever You Want, Be Sure That Is What You Want; Whatever You Feel, Be Sure That Is What You Feel.

And Would It Have Been Worth It, After All, Would It Have Been Worth While, After The Sunsets And The Dooryards And The Sprinkled Streets, After The Novels, After The Teacups, After The Skirts That Trail Along The Floor - And This, And So Much More? -

To Country People Cows Are Mild, And Flee From Any Stick They Throw; But I’m A Timid Town Bred Child, And All The Cattle Seem To Know.