I came to London. It had become the center of my world and I had worked hard to come to it. And I was lost.

The world is always in movement.

I read many things. I read to fill in my knowledge of the world.

My grief is that the publishing world, the book writing world is an extraordinary shoddy, dirty, dingy world.

The world outside existed in a kind of darkness; and we inquired about nothing.

The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it.