writer
🔗 Read on Wikipedia1888 – 1957
Others complain that I don’t make the fundamental idea plain enough. This is every writer’s dilemma. Your form is your meaning, and your meaning dictates the form. But what you try to convey is reality—the fact plus the feeling, a total complex experience of a real world. If you make your scheme too explicit, the framework shows and the book dies. If you hide it too thoroughly, the book has no meaning and therefore no form. It is a mess.
The will is never free - it is always attached to an object, a purpose. It is simply the engine in the car - it can't steer.
To forgive is wisdom, to forget is genius. And easier. Because it's true. It's a new world every heart beat.
Love doesn't grow on trees like apples in Eden - it's something you have to make. And you must use your imagination too.
Nothing like poetry when you lie awake at night. It keeps the old brain limber. It washes away the mud and sand that keeps on blocking up the bends.