“But, regardless, no one can guarantee your future, a future that is inevitably sad: sad because if you fail, then failure is always shameful and, in the case of the artist, tragic; sad because if you triumph, then triumph is a sort of vulgarity, a series of misunderstandings, a debasing; you will become that disgusting thing that is usually called a “public man”, and perhaps one day, with justified (justified?) scorn, a young man, similar to you when you started writing, will spit at you. And you will also have to tolerate this injustice, to lower your head and keep producing your work, as if you were erecting a statue in a pigsty.” — Ernesto Sabato