I Sleep With My Feet On Moss

In The World Of The Dreamer There Was Solitude: All The Exaltations And Joys Came In The Moment Of Preparation For Living. They Took Place In Solitude.

There Are Books Which We Read Early In Life, Which Sink Into Our Consciousness And Seem To Disappear Without Leaving A Trace. And Then One Day We Find, In Some Summing-up Of Our Life And Put Attitudes Towards Experience, That Their Influence Has Been Enormous.

I Needed To Live, But I Also Needed To Record What I Lived.

I Sleep With My Feet On Moss Carpets, My Branches In The Cotton Of The Clouds.

My Ideas Usually Come Not At My Desk Writing But In The Midst Of Living.