Work Is My Salvation. It Changes My

Writing Was Like Digging Coal. I Sweat Blood. The Spell Is On Me.

I Am Tired. My Arm Aches. My Head Boils. My Feet Are Cold. But I Am Not Aware Of Any Weakness.

I Love My Work But Do Not Know How I Write It.

These Critics Who Crucify Me Do Not Guess The Littlest Part Of My Sincerity. They Must Be Burned In A Blaze. I Cannot Learn From Them.

I Did Not Have One Bad Spell During Writing - An Unprecedented Record.