The profession of the writer has its thorns about which the reader does not dream.
Henryk SienkiewiczRead
Amid the stillness of the night, in the depths of the ravine, from the direction in which the corpses lay suddenly resounded a kind of inhuman, frightful laughter in which quivered despair, and joy, and cruelty, and suffering, and pain, and sobbing, and derision; the heart-rending and spasmodic laughter of the insane or condemned.
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All quotes →This homage has been rendered not to me - for the Polish soil is fertile and does not lack better writers than me - but to the Polish achievement, the Polish genius.
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But I think happiness springs from another source, a far deeper one that doesn't depend on will because it comes from love.
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