The creative act is not pure. History evidences it. Sociology extracts it. The writer loses Eden, writes to be read and comes to realize that he is answerable to no one.
Life is like a bracelet...It has little jewels around it which are like the little bright moments that come along in our lives every now and then...
How weary, stale,flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
她是我最好的朋友,我唯一的朋友!