What A Wonderful Life I've Had! I

Voluptuaries, Consumed By Their Senses, Always Begin By Flinging Themselves With A Great Display Of Frenzy Into An Abyss. But They Survive, They Come To The Surface Again. And They Develop A Routine Of The Abyss: It's Four O Clock. At Five I Have My Abyss.

Sit Down And Put Down Everything That Comes Into Your Head And Then You're A Writer. But An Author Is One Who Can Judge His Own Stuff's Worth, Without Pity, And Destroy Most Of It.

- And How Time Flies! What, Has It Already Been Twenty Years, Already Forty Years That We Are Together? Why, How Terrible! We Haven't Yet Said All We Wanted To Say To Each Other... May We Have A Little Respite, Or Else May We Be Allowed To Begin All Over Again!

Look For A Long Time At What Pleases You, And A Longer Time At What Pains You.

To Write Is To Pour One’s Innermost Self Passionately Upon The Tempting Paper, At Such Frantic Speed That Sometimes One’s Hand Struggles And Rebels, Overdriven By The Impatient God Which Guides It - And To Find, Next Day, In Place Of The Golden Bough That Bloomed Miraculously In That Dazzling Hour, A Withered Bramble And A Stunted Flower.