Gradually I Came To Realize That People

Life Is Not Long At All, Never Long Enough, But Days Are Very Long Indeed.

The World's Fat Is Badly Divided.

But Now That The Guerrilla Fighting Is Over, The Spaniards Are Again Men Without A Country Or Families Or Homes Or Work, Though Everyone Appreciates Very Much What They Did.

If I Were A First Rate Writer, I Wouldn't Mind A Bit. What Does Depress Me Is This: It Is So Desperately Hard And So Obsessive And So Lonely To Write That, In Return For All This Work, One Would Like A Little Self Satisfaction. And That Is Never Going To Come, For The Simple Reason That I Do Not Deserve It. I Cannot Be A Good Enough Writer. You See? I Call It Grim. But The Future Looks Awfully Clear To Me.

After The Desperate Years Of Their Own War, After Six Years Of Repression Inside Spain And Six Years Of Horror In Exile, These People Remain Intact In Spirit. They Are Armed With A Transcendent Faith; They Have Never Won, And Yet They Have Never Accepted Defeat.