The Weight of Simple Courage

And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.

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.

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

Chapter 47. Protagonist enters the cave. Protagonist exits the cave. Walks to margin. Types in footnote: "I'm not going back in. You put something in there. I can tell. Write yourself a new protagonist. I quit. Page 3 guy seemed eager."

"When's the manuscript due?" "March." "Which March?" "The one after I finish." "That's not how calendars—" "Then why do they keep making more of them?"

Writer stares at blank page for six hours. Finally types one sentence. Bookshelf creaks. Hemingway's collected works fall. Spine lands open to: "Write drunk, edit sober." Writer looks at clock. 9 AM. Bookshelf creaks again. Fitzgerald falls open: "Don't listen to him."