Writing is a sweet, wonderful reward.
Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.
Writing [is] a form of prayer.
The thornbush is the old obstacle in the road. It must catch fire if you want to go further.
Ours is a lost generation, it may be, but it is more blameless than those earlier generations.
Dread of night. Dread of not-night.