Life Was A Series Of Greetings And

How Lacking In Intuition Men Could Be In Persuading Themselves That Mending Some Stranger's Socks, And Attending To His Comfort, Could Content A Woman.

[referring To The Birds:] Nat Listened To The Tearing Sound Of Splintering Wood, And Wondered How Many Million Years Of Memory Were Stored In Those Little Brains, Behind The Stabbing Beaks, The Piercing Eyes, Now Giving Them This Instinct To Destroy Mankind With All The Deft Precision Of Machines.

Here Was The Freedom I Desired, Long Sought-for, Not Yet Known Freedom To Write, To Walk, To Wander, Freedom To Climb Hills, To Pull A Boat, To Be Alone.

There Is No Going Back In Life. There Is No Return. No Second Chance.

The Moment Of Crisis Had Come, And I Must Face It. My Old Fears, My Diffidence, My Shyness, My Hopeless Sense Of Inferiority, Must Be Conquered Now And Thrust Aside. If I Failed Now I Should Fail Forever.