Direction: All writers are vain, selfish and lazy, and at the very (91) of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long (92) of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not (93) by some demon whom one can neither (94) nor understand. For all one knows that demon. is simply the same (95) that makes a baby (96) for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to (97) one’s own personality. Good prose is like a window pane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed. And (98) through my work, I see that it is (99) where I lacked a political purpose that I wrote lifeless books and was (100) into purple passages, sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.

Direction: I want to avoid violence. Non-violence (121) the first article of my faith. It is also the (122) article of my creed. But I had to (123) my choice. I had either to submit (124) a system which I considered (125) done irreparable harm to my country, (126) incur the risk of the mad fury (127) my people bursting forth, when they (128) the truth from my lips. I (129) that my people have sometimes (130) mad. I am deeply sorry for it.