Don't You Think That As A People,

I Have Put Off The Past Like A Worn-out Cloak.

My Characters Are More Like Men Than These Real Men Are, See. They're Rough And Rude, They Got Hands And They Got Bellies. They Hate And They Lust; Break The Skin Of Civilization And You Find The Ape, Roaring And Red-handed.

A Woman In Such An Emotional Tempest Is As Perilous As A Blind Cobra To Any About Her.

No Man Can Be Convinced When He Will Not.

Time And Times Are But Cogwheels, Unmatched, Grinding On Oblivious To One Another. Occasionally - Oh, Very Rarely! - The Cogs Fit; The Pieces Of The Plot Snap Together Momentarily And Give Men Faint Glimpses Beyond The Veil Of This Everyday Blindness We Call Reality.