The Dreams Are The Skeleton Of All

Why Is It So Difficult To Assemble Those Things That Really Matter In Life And To Dwell Among Them Only? I Am Referring To Certain Landscapes, Persons, Beasts, Books, Rooms, Meteorological Conditions, Fruits.

To Write? Because All This Is Going To Vanish. The Only Thing Left Will Be The Prose And Poems, The Books, What Is Written Down. Man Was Very Fortunate To Have Invented The Book. Without It The Past Would Completely Vanish, And We Would Be Left With Nothing, We Would Be Naked On Earth.

It Seems To Me That Literature Is Giving Way A Little Bit To The Immediacy Of Other Diversions, Other Forms Of Entertainment. What Will It Be In Fifty Years? I Don't Know. Will There Be Printed Books? Probably, But I'm Not Sure. There's Always Going To Be Literature, Though. I Believe That. I Think Literature Has A Way Of Getting Deep Into People And Being Essential. Literature Has Its Own Powers.

One Alters The Past To Form The Future But There Is A Real Significance To The Pattern Which Finally Appears, Which Resists All Further Change.

In The War Time Many Of The Publishing Houses Were Privately Owned, A Single Publisher Or A Publisher And A Few Associates Who Were Responsible For Everything. They Could Take Whatever Risks They Wanted, Could Essentially Publish What They Liked According To Their Taste. Publishers Today Are Working For Big Corporations. They Have Different Pressures. I Don't Think They Can Make Decisions Quite As Independently As They Used To Be Able To. They Have More Corporate And Financial Responsibilities Weighing On Them. They're Not Free To Go Broke Or Go To Jail.