I have my own medicine
against loneliness reaching the degree of despair: I read. I read as one swims
to shore—when reading anything, I am not there, and therefore not alone; I am
somewhere else, in the book, with those people. Probably the reason I read mainly
novels; I join other lives. And also when writing because then too, I am not
there, not me, not this special mass of blood and flesh with all its tedious
problems; I am a conveyor, a tool, I am living in the lives I am making. Beyond
these two medicines, I have nothing. But once you accept being lonely, dearest
Betsy, it becomes much easier; one is not frightened of being alone.
Martha Gellhorn
