That's what I want to be when I grow up, just a peaceful wreck holding hands with other peaceful wrecks.
Time granted does not necessarily coincide with time that can be most fully used.
And when is there time to remember, to sift, to weigh, to estimate, to total?
Lighting does occasionally strike and occasional the result isn't a corpse.
I don't want to die leaving the world as it is right now.
I could not live by literature if only to begin with, because of the slow maturing of my work and its special character.