He wanted pure compliments, just as he wanted unconditional love.

What the problem was was this colossal redundancy, the squandering of brilliant technique on cheap material.

...all his longings came out as a kind of disdain for what he longed for.

To apologize for what you most wanted to do, to concede that it was obnoxious, boring, 'vulgar and unsafe' --- that was the worst thing.

The great wisdom for writers, perhaps for everybody, is to come to understand to be at one with their own tempo.

The worse they are the more they see beauty in each other.

He wanted pure compliments, just as he wanted unconditional love.