Literature, unable as it has become to be a profession, can only generate maladjusted and abnormal types. Because, after all, practicing it is no less than working with no expectation of return, something that nobody consciously does. The writer therefore detaches part of his time from “normal life”, and the greater this part, the more authentically he is a writer, the further he will stray from the norm, the more abnormal he will become. There is no solution. And if the tendency for him to fail in leading an ordinary life is almost unavoidable, at least it has become easier to verify the sincerity of his vocation.