No Documents, No Person.

No One's Fate Is Of Any Interest To You Except Your Own.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Lady. She Had No Children, And No Happiness Either. And At First She Cried For A Long Time, But Then She Became Wicked.

Manuscripts Do Not Burn.

He Was Coming To Understand He Could Not Come To Rectify Anything In His Life, Only Forget.

My Writing Is Progressing Slowly, But At Least It's Moving Forward. I'm Sure That's The Case. The Only Problem Is That I'm Never Absolutely Certain That What I've Written Is Any Good.