“Why should I be a proud writer, when there are those who’d read my writing, recall a painful memory, and begin to weep to it? Why should I be a proud writer, when there are those who’d read my writing, feel rage for what I say, and thus become my enemy? Why should I be a proud writer, when there are many who will be happy and thrilled in what I write, as such memories they recall are joyous? Such of the last example contrast so much from the first two, that it almost seems divided. Though, why should I be a proud writer, when through my writing, cause these emotions, and thus never be a friend to everyone? The writer, in this sense, feels isolated, as he should, and as he would.
The real writer is the sad writer, the thinker behind every person’s emotions, the isolationist and loner. He’ll realize one day that he can only ever entertain, not befriend, every one of his readers.”– Anonymous