Literature is a hard occupation because, in general, its results are not tangible. That is why, in the face of a “practical occupation”, it seems entirely pointless. And even if that is not the case, that is how it seems to the writer who works at it every day, in otherwords, the routine of invisible creation gives rise to a feeling of uselessness that is difficult to master, a feeling that is made much worse by the palpable reality that the newly created work has no effect on anyone, stimulates anyone, and is often not even noticed by anyone. But here lies the brilliant paradox: the more useless literature seems, the more authentic it is. And the great writer completes himself by overcoming appearances and leaving his example of overcoming them as a legacy.
Satisfaction, if Not Sought Now…
Satisfaction, if not sought now, if not experienced in the present circumstances, will never be sought or experienced. One has to get used to having it and wanting it, one has to move towards it, and this can only be done through will, effort and a good disposition. It is always possible to find it, and it is all the more fruitful to do so when it seems so far away. Humility in satisfaction is lasting satisfaction.
The Distressing Feeling of Not Belonging
The distressing feeling of not belonging seems much more an internal issue than an objective one. Objectively, one belongs to where one is born. And if we see Schopenhauer, for example, experiencing it all his life, we can only credit it to an inner disposition. Schopenhauer, in fact, was relatively well-accommodated, and he also adapted relatively well to the circumstances imposed on him, although he did not realize it. The feeling he carried through life was nothing more than a psychological hindrance that he could not get rid of.
Defeat Only Occurs if Circumstances Paralyze
Defeat only occurs if circumstances paralyze, decreeing the end of a trajectory. This is also true of death: it often triggers a progression that cancels out its effects, a progression that is perhaps only possible thanks to death itself. So, in short, as long as the means of response are not exhausted, one has not succumbed; and when they appear to be exhausted, victory is still possible—provided, of course, that one has prepared for it.