Would that moon--tangled in the black limbs of the naked oak, hung against the lapis eye of the night sky--be any less beautiful were it not to be commented on?
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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