Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory.

Why did I write? Because I found life unsatisfactory

When I stop working the rest of the day is posthumous. I'm only really alive when I'm writing.

If the writing is honest it cannot be separated from the man who wrote it.

Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going.

Being disappointed is one thing and being discouraged is something else.