You Know, I Can Imagine Not Writing

In Spite Of All Temptations Of Belonging To Many Nations, I've Remained An Indian.

All You Who Sleep Tonight Far From The Ones You Love, No Hand To Left Or Right, An Emptiness Above-- Know That You Aren't Alone. The Whole World Shares Your Tears, Some For Two Nights Or One, And Some For All Your Years.

Every Object Strives For Its Proper Place. A Book Seeks To Be Near Its Truest Admirer. Just As This Helpless Moth Seeks To Be Near The Candle That Infatuates Him.

Those Books Of Mine That Are Remunerative - I'm Not Talking About Poetry Here - Take Years To Write, And I Am Never Sure They'll Be Successful. So Writing Is A Risk In More Senses Than One.

Think Of Many Things. Never Place Your Happiness In One Person's Power. Be Just To Yourself.