Those who write for lucre or fame are grosser than the cartel robbers, >>
We are a most solitary people, and we live, repelled by one another, i >>
We cannot live, suffer or die for somebody else, for suffering is too >>
No doubt I shall go on writing, stumbling across tundras of unmeaning, >>
Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. M >>
I know not, Madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to ma >>
Herman Melville was as separated from a civilized literature as the lost Atlantis was said to have been from the great peoples of the earth.