"Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.

Talk of solitude (...). It is the last resort of the civilised: our souls are so creased and soured in meaning we can only unfold them when we are alone. (5/4/1927 - From a Letter to Vita Sackville-West)
Talk of solitude (...). It is the last resort of the civilised: our souls are so creased and soured ...
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