A Solitary, Unused To Speaking Of What

The Observations And Encounters Of A Solitary, Taciturn Man Are Vaguer And At The Same Times More Intense Than Those Of A Sociable Man; His Thoughts Are Deeper, Odder And Never Without A Touch Of Sadness. Images And Perceptions That Could Be Dismissed With A Glance, A Laugh, An Exchange Of Opinions, Occupy Him Unduly, Become More Intense In The Silence, Become Significant, Become An Experience, An Adventure, An Emotion. Solitude Produces Originality, Bold And Astonishing Beauty, Poetry. But Solitude Also Produces Perverseness, The Disproportionate, The Absurd And The Forbidden.

Technology And Comfort - Having Those, People Speak Of Culture, But Do Not Have It.

I Stand Between Two Worlds. I Am At Home In Neither, And I Suffer In Consequence. You Artists Call Me A Bourgeois, And The Bourgeois Try To Arrest Me...i Don't Know Which Makes Me Feel Worse.

A Man Lives Not Only His Personal Life, As An Individual, But Also, Consciously Or Unconsciously, The Life Of His Epoch And His Contemporaries.

A Man’s Dying Is More The Survivors’ Affair Than His Own.