Perhaps Samuel Johnson was a great man; he was certainly a drumbling one.
We cannot live, suffer or die for somebody else, for suffering is too precious to be shared.
Man is at the nadir of his stregth when the Earth, the seas, the mountains are not in him, for without them his soul is unsourced, and he has no images by which to abide.
Writing is conscience, scruple, and the farming of our ancestors.
To write is a humiliation.
A painter can hang his pictures, but a writer can only hang himself.