Real artists, it seems to me, are those who don't repeat themselves.
As my mother once said: The boys throw stones at the frog in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.
You can't imbibe someone's success by f*cking them.
When the memory of one's predecessors is buried, the assumption persists that there were none and each generation of women believes itself to be faced with the burden of doing everything for the first time. And if no one ever did it beforewhy do we think we can succeed now?
Ignorance is not bad faith. But persistence in ignorance is.
How withered away one can be from a life of unremitting toil.