People empty me. I have to get away to refill.
They, all of them, seemed to put literary form in front of the actuality and living of life itself.
The less I needed, the better I felt.
I seldom know what I'm going to write when I sit down. There isn't much agony and sweat of the human spirit involved in doing it. The writing's easy, it's the living that is sometimes difficult.
Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad
It's just that the grape has me down.