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I wandered at random, and the soft ground, broken by the tortuous courses of a
hundred streamlets, with its carpet of brown, dead leaves, exhaled an odour of
moist soil, the voluptuous scents of our mother, the Earth, gravid with silent life.
The jungle. There is no sign of a pathway and the ground is thickly strewn with
decaying leaves. The trees grow dense, trees with enormous leaves and trees
with the feathery foliage of the acacia, coconut trees and the areca palm with its
I suppose if I belonged to the modern school of story writers, I should write it just
as it is and leave it. It goes against the grain with me. I want a story to have form,
and I don't see how you can give it that unless you can bring it to a conclusion ...
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - JBreedlove - LibraryThing
A compilation of notes kept over his lifetime and published just before Maugham's death. Though there were some pearls of wisdom and insightful comments on writing it was his commentary on daily life ... Read full review