We could have saved sixpence. We could have saved fivepence. But at what cost?
Nothing matters but the writing. There has been nothing else worthwhile... a stain upon the silence.
Suffering is the main condition of the artistic experience.
I had little talent for happiness.
Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.
We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?