We move between two darknesses.

How do I know what I think until I see what I say?

What is wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man who wrote.

Death destroys a man: the idea of Death saves him.

In the creative state a man is taken out of himself. He lets down as it were a bucket into his subconscious and draws up something which is normally beyond his reach. He mixes this thing with his normal experiences and out of the mixture he makes a work of art.

... And now we shan't be parted no more, and that's finished.