Writing Is A Fine Thing,

It's Pointless To Cry. One Is Born And Dies Alone.

You Will Hear Words Old And Spent And Useless Like Costumes Left Over From Yesterday's Parties.

Literature Is A Defense Against The Attacks Of Life. It Says To Life: You Can't Deceive Me. I Know Your Habits, Foresee And Enjoy Watching All Your Reactions, And Steal Your Secret By Involving You In Cunning Obstructions That Halt Your Normal Flow.

Men Who Have A Tempestuous Inner Life And Do Not Seek To Give Vent To It By Talking Or Writing Are Simply Men Who Have No Tempestuous Inner Life. Give Company To A Lonely Man And He Will Talk More Than Anyone.

Hate Is Always A Clash Between Our Spirit And Someone Else's Body.