When you’re writing, you’re trying to find out something which you don’t know. The whole language of writing for me is finding out what you don’t want to know, what you don’t want to find out. But something forces you to anyway.
In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.
"He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life." ...James Joyce
“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE