So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days. One may be preoccupied with shopping and income tax returns and chance conversations, but the stream of the unconscious continues to flow undisturbed, solving problems, planning ahead: one sits down sterile and dispirited at the desk, and suddenly the words come as though from the air: the situations that seemed blocked in a hopeless impasse move forward: the work has been done while one slept or shopped or talked with friends.
Δε γίνεται να εμποδίσεις τη δημιουργία μαρτύρων. Το μόνο που μπορεί κανείς να κάνει είναι να κοιτάξει να περιορίσει τον αριθμό τους. Αν ήξερα κάποιους Χριστιανούς τον καιρό του Νέρωνα, θα προσπαθούσα να τους σώσω απ' τα λιοντάρια, εξηγώντας τους πως είναι προτιμότερο να ζει κανείς με την πίστη του, παρά να πεθαίνει γι' αυτήν.
Time has its revenges, but revenge seems so often sour. Wouldn’t we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife with a husband, nor a parent a child? Perhaps that’s why men have invented God – a being capable of understanding.