From Between Life and Death
Nathalie Sarraute

“He shakes his head, puckers his lids, his lips… ‘No, positively no, that won’t do.’ He stretches out his arm, bends it again… ‘I tear out the page.’ He clenches his fist, then his arm drops, his hand relaxes… ‘I throw it away. I take another sheet. I write. On the typewriter. Always. I never write by hand. I reread…’ His head moves from side to side. His lips are pouting… ‘No, no and again no. I tear it out. I crumple it. I throw it away. And so, three, four, ten times I start over…’ He puckers his lips, frowns, stretches his arm, bends it again, lets it drop, clenches his fist.”