Human Beings Are Struggling, And

Cold - Cold As Truth, Cold As Life. No, Nothing Can Be As Cold As Life.

There Is Always The Other Side, Always.

All Of Writing Is A Huge Lake. There Are Great Rivers That Feed The Lake, Like Tolstoy Or Dostoyevsky. And Then There Are Mere Trickles, Like Jean Rhys. All That Matters Is Feeding The Lake. I Don't Matter. The Lake Matters. You Must Keep Feeding The Lake.

And I Saw That All My Life I Had Known That This Was Going To Happen, And That I'd Been Afraid For A Long Time, I'd Been Afraid For A Long Time. There's Fear, Of Course, With Everybody. But Now It Had Grown, It Had Grown Gigantic; It Filled Me And It Filled The Whole World.

I Am The Only Real Truth I Know.