Being a man of letters is almost always a thankless task. And perhaps there has never been a profession as prostituted as that of writer. It is true, the distinction between the qualities of the great writer and the successful writer has always seemed very clear. But today, in a world where success is a sovereign qualitative criterion, it seems more than ever that the man of letters must adapt to the terrible reality that drives him to be, as well as an artist, a salesman—and refusal seems to be the certainty of oblivion. Well, it has never been so honorable to be ignored in life and to follow, obstinately, in the opposite direction of contemporary conventions. Penury! Contempt! And the unsubmissive spirit will know, alone, what it is to think out of chains.
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