Цитаты из книги Своя комната

And one gathers from this enormous modern literature of confession and self-analysis that to write a work of genius is almost always a feat of prodigious difficulty. Everything is against the likelihood that it will come from the writer's mind whole and entire. Generally material circumstances are against it. Dogs will bark; people will interrupt; money must be made; health will break down. Further, accentuating all these difficulties and making them harder to bear is the world's notorious indifference. It does not ask people to write poems and novels and histories ; it does not need them. It does not care whether Flaubert finds the right word or whether Carlyle scrupulously verifies this or that fact. Naturally, it will not pay for what it does not want. And so the writer, Keats, Flaubert, Carlyle, suffers , especially in the creative years of youth, every form of distraction and discouragement. A curse, a cry of agony, rises from those books of analysis and confession. 'Mighty poets in their misery dead' - that is the burden of their song. If anything comes through in spite of all this, it is a miracle, and probably no book is born entire and uncrippled as it was conceived.

I thought of that old gentleman, who is dead now, but was a bishop, I think, who declared that it was impossible for any woman, past, present, or to come, to have the genius of Shakespeare. He wrote to the papers about it. He also told a lady who applied to him for information that cats do not as a matter of fact go to heaven, though they have, he added, souls of a sort. How much thinking those old gentlemen used to save one! How the borders of ignorance shrank back at their approach! Cats do not go to heaven. Women cannot write the plays of Shakespeare.

A very queer, composite being thus emerges. Imaginatively she is of the highest importance ; practically she is completely insignificant. She pervades poetry from cover to cover; she is all but absent from history. She dominates the lives of kings and conquerors in fiction; in fact she was the slave of any boy whose parents forced a ring upon her finger. Some of the most inspired words, some of the most profound thoughts in literature fall from her lips; in real life she could hardly read, could scarcely spell, and was the property of her husband.

It was certainly an odd monster that one made up by reading the historians first and the poets afterwards - a worm winged like an eagle; the spirit of life and beauty in a kitchen chopping up suet. But these monsters, however amusing to the imagination, have no existence in fact. What one must do to bring her to life was to think poetically and prosaically at one and the same moment, thus keeping in touch with fact - that she is Mrs Martin, aged thirty-six, dressed in blue, wearing a black hat and brown shoes; but not losing sight of fiction either - that she is a vessel in which all sorts of spirits and forces are coursing and flashing perpetually.

"«Хлое нравилась Оливия. Они работали в одной лаборатории…» Хотя одна из них была замужем и с двумя маленькими детьми. И дальше я узнаю, что героини занимались препарированием печени, говорят, это помогает при злокачественной анемии. Мужчины, конечно, все эти подробности опускали, и пышный образ выдуманной женщины упротгался и скучнел на глазах. Представьте, если бы мужчин изображали только возлюбленными и никогда — друзьями, солдатами, мыслителями, мечтателями; им почти нечего было бы играть в пьесах Шекспира, какая потеря для литературы!"

«Великая книга», «пустая книжонка» — говорится об одной и той же вещи. Что могут значить после этого чья-то похвала или хула? Нет, как ни увлекательно строить оценки, это бесполезнейшее из занятий, а подчиняться оценкам или указам — наиболее рабская из всех позиций. До тех пор пока вы пишете, как думаете, только ваши мысли и чувства и имеют значение, а на века ли пишете или на несколько часов, этого никто не знает. Но поступиться хотя бы волоском с головы своего образа, тенью его есть самое низкое предательство, рядом с которым обычные страшные людские жертвы собственностью или добродетелью покажутся просто темным пятнышком.