Upon Him The Contempt Of Three Planets

Writing Is A Lonely Way Of Life. You Shut Yourself Up In Your Study And Work And Work.

Madness Has Its Own Dynamism. It Just Goes On.

The Tragedy In His Life Already Existed. To Love An Atmospheric Spirit. That Was The Real Sorrow. Hopelessness Itself. Nowhere On The Printed Page, Nowhere In The Annals Of Man, Would Her Name Appear: No Local Habitation, No Name. There Are Girls Like That, He Thought, And Those You Love Most, The Ones Where There Is No Hope Because It Has Eluded You At The Very Moment You Close Your Hands Around It.

She Makes Life Over, He Realized. She Controls Life, Whereas I Just Sit On My Can And Let It Happen To Me.

If You Think This Universe Is Bad, You Should See Some Of The Others.