Ok, ok, ok. I have already mentioned that I am in love with Carlos Ruiz Zafón. But he continues to impress me every time I read anything by him. I just started his novel, The Angel’s Game. This time, I busted out the post its to keep track of all the quotes instead of writing them down as I go, like I did last year. This will be much more time efficient. Except I keep noting things on every page. Whoops.
This one, about writers, opens the book.
A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price.