Am I a weed, carried this way, that way, on a tide that comes twice a day without a meaning?
We insist, it seems, on living.
Life's bare as a bone.
Some collaboration has to take place in the mind between the woman and the man before the art of creation can be accomplished. Some marriage of opposites has to be consummated. The whole of the mind must lie wide open if we are to get the sense that the
Writing is still like heaving bricks over a wall.
Almost any biographer, if he respects facts, can give us much more than another fact to add to our collection. He can give us the creative fact; the fertile fact; the fact that suggests and engenders.