For three months now, dedicating myself to closing a small volume of poems, fighting against the discouraging sensation of never considering a single sonnet finished, it is with amazement that I think of the more than 150 thousand verses that Victor Hugo finished in just one life. Once, I read someone saying that such productivity compromised the quality of these verses. Reasoning too obvious and that does not resist an accurate examination. To me, the scandalous in Victor Hugo is the discipline worthy of the greatest name in French literature. Immense merit, and quite instructive…
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