What a labour writing is ... making one sentence do the work of a page; that's what I call hard work.
The depths of the sea are only water after all.
Thoughts without wordsโฆ Can that be?
Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth.
And now more than anything I want beautiful prose. I relish it more and more exquisitely.
I press to my centre, and find there is something there.