You're beautiful, like a May fly.
His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred.
I've tried to reduce profanity but I reduced so much profanity when writing the book that I'm afraid not much could come out. Perhaps we will have to consider it simply as a profane book and hope that the next book will be less profane or perhaps more sacred.
Somebody just back of you while you are fishing is as bad as someone looking over your shoulder while you write a letter to your girl.
DOB - July 21, 1899