“Words, words, word.
Once, I had the gift. I could make love out of words as a potter makes cups of clay.
Love that overthrows empire. Love that binds two hearts together,
come hellfire & brimstone. For sixpence a line,
I could cause a riot in a nunnery. But now --
I have lost my gift. It's as if my quill is broken, as if the organ of my imagination has dried up, as if the proud...
of my genius has collapsed.”