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Literature is a fire that burns within us, a fire that consumes and purifies, a fire that illuminates and warms.
A writer must be stubborn, must have a vocation of sacrifice, and must accept that literature is a very cruel mistress.
Les sanglots longs / Des violons / De l’automne / Blessent mon cœur / D’une langueur / Monotone.
Happiness depends on the inner self, not the external world.