I Daresay I Was The Worst Bed

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.

It Is Alleged That Half A Million Spanish Men, Women And Children Fled To France After The Franco Victory.

People May Correctly Remember The Events Of Twenty Years Ago (a Remarkable Feat), But Who Remembers His Fears, His Disgusts, His Tone Of Voice? It Is Like Trying To Bring Back The Weather Of That Time.

All Politicians Are Bores And Liars And Fakes. I Talk To People.

Thousand Got Away To Other Countries; Thousands Returned To Spain Tempted By False Promises Of Kindness. By The Tens Of Thousands, These Spaniards Died Of Neglect In The Concentration Camps.