A man had to learn, it was his nature.
Space plus whatever you feel equals more whatever you feel, marvelous for happiness, God save you otherwise.
Somewhere I put it this way: first drafts are for learning what one’s fiction wants him to say. Revision works with that knowledge to enlarge and enhance an idea, to reform it. Revision is one of the exquisite pleasures of writing.
A man has to construct, invent, his freedom.
How can we be strangers if we both believe in God?
A man is an island in the only sense that matters, not an easy way to be. We live in mystery, a cosmos of separate lonely bodies, men, insects, stars. It is all loneliness and men know it best.