“In a letter to Fitzgerald, Hemingway says Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to hurt like hell before you can write seriously.
I will never forget our personal tragedies, and denying that they hurt like someone set my flesh on fire would be stupid and insensitive.
But I write. I write our history, I write the stories we’ll never have. In my heart, they take place by themselves, I just have to let them come to me so I can pin them on paper. What a blessing is sadness, what timeless inspiration it brings.
Heartbreak made art possible, all the time. Yet I do sometimes regret our innocence perdue, the gentle yet passionate core of our love affair, the spark that burst and changed my life forever when we met.”
[letters, April 2012]