Alterations never do any good. Either persevere and force it on the public as it is, or else scrap it promptly. You cannot really alter a thing of that size enough to make the difference between success and failure.
Jane Bowles writes to husband Paul from Morocco, shortly before France’s recognition of its independence. Bowles situates her depressive turns and financial travails within a city struggling with decolonization. Tangier, Morrocco Dearest Bupple: It has been very difficult for me … Continued
…by the time I have autographed these all the lonely, lonely people who hoped to meet a man as lonely as they will have to go home…
Am occupied adjusting, trying to find place in society, work; not much ambition yet, etc. more woe.
What is this death, this birth and apparent pain, this glib love, this rush to the head of so many extraneous creatures of the air that crowd my words and never let me stop a sentence at a nice, rhythmic stop? Don’t tell me.
The English novelist and satirist writes to his friend and confidante, Lady Mary Lygon, a British aristocrat and Russian princess by marriage. Waugh is distraught to hear that she has recently lost her faith. Darling Blondie Please do not … Continued
The above excerpt, however insanely accurate, reads like an intervention from a group of long-time friends who secretly hate me.
I have been endeavouring to discover a better Sonnet Stanza than we have…
Besides, the likes of us, as you know, are constantly leaping without any transition from despondency and self-abasement to inordinate pride…
No I can’t see James Baldwin in Georgia. It would cause the greatest trouble and disturbance and disunion. I observe the traditions of the society I feed on—it’s only fair…
