The Artist Must Be In His Work

One Day, I Shall Explode Like An Artillery Shell And All My Bits Will Be Found On The Writing Table.

She Would Have Liked Not To Be Alive, Or To Be Always Asleep.

Doesn't It Seem To You," Asked Madame Bovary, "that The Mind Moves More Freely In The Presence Of That Boundless Expanse, That The Sight Of It Elevates The Soul And Gives Rise To Thoughts Of The Infinite And The Ideal?

But Some Day Sooner Or Later Our Passion Would Have Cooled - Inevitably - It's The Way With Everything Human.

You Must Write For Yourself, Above All. That Is Your Only Hope Of Creating Something Beautiful.