Glory, As Anyone Knows, Is Bitter Stuff.

Even When We're With Someone We Love, We're Foolish Enough To Think Of Her Body And Soul As Being Separate. To Stand Before The Person We Love Is Not The Same As Loving Her True Self, For We Are Only Apt To Regard Her Physical Beauty As The Indispensable Mode Of Her Existence. When Time And Space Intervene, It Is Possible To Be Deceived By Both, But On The Other Hand, It Is Equally Possible To Draw Twice As Close To Her Real Self.

I Still Have No Way To Survive But To Keep Writing One Line, One More Line, One More Line.

Beyond Doubt, There Was A Certain Splendor In Pain, Which Bore A Deep Affinity To The Splendor That Lies Hidden Within Strength.

As Usual, It Occurred To Me That Words Were The Only Thing That Could Possibly Save Me From This Situation. This Was A Characteristic Misunderstanding On My Part. When Action Was Needed, I Was Absorbed In Words; For Words Proceeded With Such Difficulty From My Mouth That I Was Intent On Them And Forgot All About Action. It Seemed To Me That Actions, Which Are Dazzling, Varied Things, Must Always Be Accompanied By Equally Dazzling And Equally Varied Words.

If The Photographer Is To Create Works That Will Stand For His Spirit In The Same Way As Artists In Other Genres, He Must First - Having No Ready-made, Abstract Components Such As Works And Sounds - Supply Other Means To Abstraction Instead.