«Why must you write?»
«The voices Anne. The voices, I can't stop them.
They come to me. When I sleep, when I wake, when I sup. When I walk down the hall.
The sweet longings of a maiden, the surging ambitions of a courtier..
the designs of a murder, the pleas of his victims.
Only when I put their words, their voices, to parchment.. are they cast loose, freed.
Only then my mind is quieted. At peace.
I would go mad if I didn't write down the voices.»
Anonymous.