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Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.
Life can't ever really defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death--fascinating, cruel, lavish, warm, cold, treacherous constant.
Living in the past is a dull and lonely business looking back strains the neck muscles, causes you to bump into people not going your way.
Only amateurs say that they write for their own amusement. Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth... But amusing Never.