Find A Pile Of Gold And Sit

I Understand That The World Was Nothing: A Mechanical Chaos Of Casual, Brute Enmity On Which We Stupidly Impose Our Hopes And Fears. I Understood That, Finally And Absolutely, I Alone Exist. All The Rest, I Saw, Is Merely What Pushes Me, Or What I Push Against, Blindly - As Blindly As All That Is Not Myself Pushes Back. I Create The Whole Universe, Blink By Blink.

One Must Be Just A Little Crazy To Write A Great Novel. One Must Be Capable Of Allowing The Darkest, Most Ancient And Shrewd Parts Of One’s Being To Take Over The Work From Time To Time.

To Write With Taste, In The Highest Sense, Is To Write [...] So That No One Commits Suicide, No One Despairs; To Write [...] So That People Understand, Sympathize, See The Universality Of Pain, And Feel Strengthened, If Not Directly Encouraged To Live On. If There Is Good To Be Said, The Writer Should Say It. If There Is Bad To Be Said, He Should Say It In A Way That Reflects The Truth That, Though We See The Evil, We Choose To Continue Among The Living. The True Artist [...] Gets His Sense Of Worth And Honor From His Conviction That Art Is Powerful--

I Couldn't Go On, Too Conscious All At Once Of My Whispering, My Eternal Posturing, Always Transforming The World With Words--changing Nothing.

Fiction Does Not Spring Into The World Fully Grown, Like Athena. It Is The Process Of Writing And Rewriting That Makes A Fiction Original, If Not Profound.