The hands of fate keep time on a heart-shaped clock.

The good life doesn't knock on the door. Joy is a job.

(about William Blake)As for Blake's happiness--a man who knew him said: "If asked whether I ever knew among the intellectual, a happy man, Blake would be the only one who would immediately occur to me."And yet this creative power in Blake did not come from ambition. ...He burned most of his own work. Because he said, "I should be sorry if I had any earthly fame, for whatever natural glory a man has is so much detracted from his spiritual glory. I wish to do nothing for profit. I wish to live for art. I want nothing whatever. I am quite happy."...He did not mind death in the least. He said that to him it was just like going into another room. On the day of his death he composed songs to his Maker and sang them for his wife to hear. Just before he died his countenance became fair, his eyes brightened and he burst into singing of the things he saw in heaven.

When a writer falls in love with you - their very soul bursts open like a supernova brightly lighting up everything in its way.They will write spells on your skin and carve your name onto their bones and make you theirs.Their love bleeds through their fingers in the form of words hastily written on paper while their heart jumps inside their chest, unable to contain such impossible amount of feelings rushing over one another getting tangled, causing pain and joy and tears of sorrow and happiness all at the same time.The universe will fall from their parted lips when they say your name and whisper how much they love you. They will turn you into a priceless sculpture - carve you into a monument and make love to you - while making you their home, their sun, their moon, their stars, their whole world gathered into one small corporeal being made out of stars and love and infinity.When a writer falls in love with you they become a new separate universe quietly created by your words, brought to life by your touch, burning brightly as long as you whisper their name with all the love that you have inside you.

Instead he was grabbing at whatever was available in this system that no longer held the old predictable relationship between effort and result as true

Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing.