“Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man desires what …” — Edgar Rice Burroughs

I loved her. I still love her, though I curse her in my sleep, so nearly one are love and hate, the two most powerful and devasting emotions that control man, nations, life.

She did not admire him any more than she had. It was merely that she considered him the Lesser of two evils.

I write to escape; to escape poverty.

Death, only, renders hope futile.