'And what,' said Gobind one Sunday evening, 'is your honoured craft, and by what manner of means earn you your daily bread?'
'I am,' said I, 'a kerani - one who writes with a pen upon paper, not being in the service of the Government.'
'Then what do you write?' said Gobind. 'Come nearer, for I cannot see your countenance, and the light fails.'
'I write of all matters that lie within my understanding, and of many that do not. But chiefly I write of Life and Death, and men and women, and Love and Fate according to the measure of my ability, telling the tale through the mouths of one, two, or more people. Then by the favor of God the tales are sold and money accrues to me that I may keep alive.'
- Rudyard Kipling, Life's Handicap: Stories of Mine Own People, from the Preface