The westward march has stopped, upon the final plains of the Pacific; and now the plot thickenswith the change, the pause, the settlement, our people draw into closer groups, stand face to face, to know each other and be known.
He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has no face, no name, nothing; and the words, the poem he makes, are a kind of exorcism of this demon.
I developed a reputation as a "hothead" because I got in the face of a lot of reporters and they thought I was just a hotheaded person. What they didn't understand was that I was motivated by love.