A writer is a reader moved to emulation.
My face too blind, my mind too limited, my instincts too narrow. But this intensity, doesn't it mean anything?
I must play the instrument I've got.
Everybody knows there is no fineness or accuracy of suppression; if you hold down one thing, you hold down the adjoining.
Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.
I have, perhaps, a slave-like constitution which is too easily restrained by bonds; it then becomes rebellious and bursts out in a comic revolution.