An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts. – Juvenal, Satires Category: Writing
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself. – Franz Kafka Category: Writing
When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation. – Jorge Luis Borges Category: Writing
I grew up like a neglected weed – ignorant of liberty, having no experience of it. – Harriet Tubman Category: Experience
Ladies of Fashion starve their happiness to feed their vanity, and their love to feed their pride. – Charles Caleb Colton Category: Happiness
