Writing (n.) is a deeper sleep than death. Just as one wouldn't pull a corpse from its grave, I can't be dragged from my desk at night.
Writing (n.) is an activity such that every word first looks around in every direction before letting itself be written down.
Writing (n.) is an escape from the unrest and a shutting out of the voices around one and within one.
Writing (n.) is itself an argument against the existence of the soul, for, in writing, the soul has taken flight from the real ego.
Writing (n.) is revealing oneself to excess.
Writing (n.) is such that what one writes is different from what one says, what one says is different from what one thinks, what one thinks is different from what one ought to think and so it goes further into the deepest darkness.
Writing (n.) is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.