Already scared to death by various quotes from Revolutionary Road and The Perks of Being a Wallflower that seem to sum up my life in an indifferent, depressing manner (my favourite being "Maybe high school was my glory days, and I didn't even realise it because it didn't involve a ball"), Nicola goes one step further by calling me 'an artist that creates no art'. All this brings to mind is yet more panic and another depressing quotation, this time from Truman Capote's (amazing) travel sketch on New York. "Lunch today with M. She belongs to that sect most swiftly, irrevocably trapped by New York, the talented untalented: too acute to accept a more provincial climate, yet not quite acute enough to breathe freely within the one so desired, they go along neurotically feeding upon the fringes of the New York scene. For artists without an art, it is always a tension without release, irritation with no resulting pearl. But M. deserves a finer destiny than to pass from belated adolescence to premature middle age, with no intervening period and nothing to show." Perhaps I can take some cold comfort from my own favourite quote by Hemingway, who said "Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."