They take little interest in waking life, choosing to lie most of the time in death-like sleep.” “Then - Robert E. Howard

It is only the promise of death that makes life worth living.

The poem you sent me was as fiery and virile as anything you’ve ever written – or anybody else, for that matter. Especially the second part went to my brain like the flaming liquor of insanity. No one else besides Jack London has the power to move me just that way.

I saw that — that black thing squatting like an ape among the branches, leering down at me.