She must find a boat and sail in it. No guarantee of shore. Only a conviction that what she wanted could exist, if she dared to find it.

Oh what a grind it is embodying all these ideas and having perpetually to expose my mind, opened and intensified as it is by the heat of creation, to the blasts of the outer world. If I didn’t feel so much, how easy it would be to go on.

Apparently, he was too busy living his own life to be a character in the imaginary novel that was mine.

Orestes: Neither slave nor master. I am my freedom. No sooner had you created me than I ceased to be yours.