那是 1941 年，我已经入狱十一年了。我当时三十五岁。我一生中最美好的时光要么是在牢房里，要么是在黑洞里。我和我的印第安部落只享受了七个月的完全自由。我的印度妻子为我生的孩子现在应该已经八岁了。多么可怕啊！时间过得真快啊！但回过头来看，这些小时和分钟对我来说是漫长得可怕，每一分钟都难以忍受。
(This was 1941 and I'd been in prison eleven years. I was thirty-five. I'd spent the best years of my life either in a cell or in a black-hole. I'd only had seven months of total freedom with my Indian tribe. The children my Indian wives must have had by me would be eight years old now. How terrible! How quickly the time had flashed by! But a backward glance showed all these hours and minutes studding my calvary as terribly long, and each one of them hard to bear.)