A Writer Should Always Feel Like He's

What She Wants To Say Has To Do Not Only With Joy But With The Penetrating, Constant Fear That Is Joy's Other Half.

At The Risk, Then, Of Being Shunned By Some Of My Gloomier Peers, I Venture To Tell You That Writers Work Like Demons, Suffer Greatly, And Are Also Happy, In Unmistakable Ways, Some Of The Time. If We Had No Knowledge Of Happiness, Our Novels Wouldn't Sufficiently Resemble Real Life. Some Of Us Are Even Made A Little Bit Happy, On Occasion, By The Writing Process Itself. I Mean, Really, If There Wasn't Some Sort Of Enjoyment To Be Derived, Would Any Of Us Keep Doing It?

You Cannot Find Peace By Avoiding Life, Leonard.

It's The World, You Live In It, Even If Some Boy Has Made A Fool Of You.

She'd Never Imagined It Like This-when She Thought Of Someone (a Woman Like Herself)losing Her Mind, She'd Imagined Shrieks And Wails, Hallucinations; But At That Moment It Had Seemed Clear That There Was Another Way, Far Quieter; A Way That Was Numb And Hopeless, Flat, So Much So That An Emotion As Strong As Sorrow Would Have Been A Relief.