Love, Genuine Passionate Love, Was His For

He Felt Strangely Numb. As Though From A Great Distance, He Was Aware That He Was Being Beaten. The Last Sensations Of Pain Left Him. He No Longer Felt Anything, Though Very Faintly He Could Hear The Impact Of The Club Upon His Body. But It Was No Longer His Body, It Seemed So Far Away.

. . . And God Knows We Are Sensitive To The Suffering That Has Sometimes Broken Loose To Come Billowing Forth From Your Appendages Like The Pungent Vapors Of Whales - Often It Appears That In This Life Of Experience And Accommodation We Pay Just As Dearly For Our Triumphs As We Do For Our Defeats. But Sissy . . . Hold On!

One Cannot Violate The Promptings Of One's Nature Without Having That Nature Recoil Upon Itself.

Don't Write Too Much. Concentrate Your Sweat On One Story, Rather Than Dissipate It Over A Dozen.

With The Aurora Borealis Flaming Coldly Overhead, Or The Stars Leaping In The Frost Dance, And The Land Numb And Frozen Under Its Pall Of Snow, This Song Of The Huskies Might Have Been The Defiance Of Life, Only It Was Pitched In Minor Key, With Long-drawn Wailings And Half-sobs, And Was More The Pleading Of Life, The Articulate Travail Of Existence. It Was An Old Song, Old As The Breed Itself--one Of The First Songs Of The Younger World In A Day When Songs Were Sad.