It’s Not That You Have To Achieve

I'm Still There, Watching Those Possessed Children, As Far Away From The Mystery Now As I Was Then. I've Never Written, Though I Thought I Wrote, Never Loved, Though I Thought I Loved, Never Done Anything But Wait Outside The Closed Door.

Alcohol Is Barren. The Words A Man Speaks In The Night Of Drunkenness Fade Like The Darkness Itself At The Coming Of Day.

To Love One Child And To Love All Children, Whether Living Or Dead -somewhere These Two Loves Come Together. To Love A No-good But Humble Punk And To Love An Honest Man Who Believes Himself To Be An Honest Man -somewhere These, Too, Come Together.

Nowhere Is One More Alone Than In Paris ... And Yet Surrounded By Crowds. Nowhere Is One More Likely To Incur Greater Ridicule. And No Visit Is More Essential.

Finding Yourself In A Hole, At The Bottom Of A Hole, In Almost Total Solitude, And Discovering That Only Writing Can Save You. To Be Without The Slightest Subject For A Book, The Slightest Idea For A Book, Is To Find Yourself, Once Again, Before A Book. A Vast Emptiness. A Possible Book. Before Nothing. Before Something Like Living, Naked Writing, Like Something Terrible, Terrible To Overcome.