Justice Can Never Be Done In The

My Life Was Hurrying, Racing Tragically Toward Its End. And Yet At The Same Time It Was Dripping So Slowly, So Very Slowly Now, Hour By Hour, Minute By Minute. One Always Has To Wait Until The Sugar Melts, The Memory Dies, The Wound Scars Over, The Sun Sets, The Unhappiness Lifts And Fades Away.

I Don't Want To Be Just Another Blade Of Grass.

To Make Oneself An Object, To Make Oneself Passive, Is A Very Different Thing From Being A Passive Object.

Writing Is A Trade ... Which Is Learned By Writing.

Literature Takes Its Revenge On Reality By Making It The Slave Of Fiction.