I Must Confess That I Too Am

Do You Know What Will Soon Be The Ultimate In Truth?

Happiness And Work Rose Up Together With The Sun, Radiant Like It.

Many Excellent Cooks Are Spoilt By Going Into The Arts.

Under The Continual Contact With The Pebbles My Feet Have Become Hardened And Used To The Ground. My Body, Almost Constantly Nude, No Longer Suffers From The Sun. Civilization Is Falling From Me Little By Little. I Am Beginning To Think Simply, To Feel Only Very Little Hatred For My Neighbor - Rather, To Love Him.

Poor Artist! You Gave Away Part Of Your Soul When You Painted The Picture Which You Are Now Trying To Dispose Of.