From Count Andreas Petofi: Exceeding the Grasp, an autobiographical gift of letters, lore, and lyrics.  Volume III

Quentin Collins, a man of the future, was quite in danger of having none.  Miss Charity Trask, so eager to share his secret, had created no small amount of labor for me, but no task would equal the effort of winning Quentin to my side.  Could I have leapfrogged through time, moving from person to person, as I did with David?  Only temporarily.  Thus, a vehicle was essential.  That evening, my work was only soothed by a bon mot quoted to me still by worthy admirers such as yourself.  When asked upon what god I swore, I quipped, “I have but one, and His name is Petofi.”

If only I had a day of rest, but the work of a titan is never done.



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