The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then.

"We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way."

樵夫的斧头向树要柄，树便给了它。

我不是榜样，但如果这能让你晚上睡得更好，随便你怎么称呼我。