This is awful. I don't know what's going to happen to me or to anyone else in the world.

All of us, all of us, all of us trying to save our immortal souls, some ways seemingly more round about and mysterious than others. We are having a good time here. But hope all will be revealed soon.

Write about what you know, and what do you know better than your own secrets?

There was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had.

Isak Dinesen said that she wrote a little every day, without hope and without despair. I like that.

Fiction shows the external effects of internal conditions. Be aware of the tension between internal and external movement.

I'm always learning something. Learning never ends.