Quote:
Originally Posted by kennyc
From this month's Narrative Magazine:
The Making of a Writer
A Journal
by Gail Godwin
August 1963–December 1968
1963
London, England
August 7
It is with immense relief that I close the door to my room on the top floor of a Chelsea house, settle into a comfortable bed, and listen to the sounds of the night, the muffled hum of traffic down by the embankment, the tuned-down rock and roll of a German radio program (bringing back the night I was interrogated in a East Berlin police station, fall 1961). True, time is the villain and we are trapped in him. True, love is sometimes not returned. True, friends are sometimes false. But to be aware of this—all of it—and still want to go on living, that is the triumph. It is the reward.
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available at (must register and log in unfortunately, but it's a great site):
http://www.narrativemagazine.com/iss.../making-writer |
Wow! This made me stop, re-read, ponder, and shake my head in silent agreement. So profound a thought expressed in such simple words. Wow!
