... The Unarmed Power Of Naked Truth.

Don't Be Upset. Don't Listen To Me. I Only Meant That I Am Jealous Of A Dark, Unconscious Element, Something Irrational, Unfathomable. I Am Jealous Of Your Toilet Articles, Of The Drops Of Sweat On Your Skin, Of The Germs In The Air You Breathe Which Could Get Into Your Blood And Poison You. And I Am Jealous Of Komarovsky, As If He Were An Infectious Disease. Someday He Will Take You Away, Just As Certainly As Death Will Someday Separate Us. I Know This Must Seem Obscure And Confused, But I Can't Say It More Clearly. I Love You Madly, Irrationally, Infinitely.

Art Is Unthinkable Without Risk And Spiritual Self-sacrifice.

Reshaping Life! People Who Can Say That Have Never Understood A Thing About Life—they Have Never Felt Its Breath, Its Heartbeat—however Much They Have Seen Or Done. They Look On It As A Lump Of Raw Material That Needs To Be Processed By Them, To Be Ennobled By Their Touch. But Life Is Never A Material, A Substance To Be Molded. If You Want To Know, Life Is The Principle Of Self-renewal, It Is Constantly Renewing And Remaking And Changing And Transfiguring Itself, It Is Infinitely Beyond Your Or My Obtuse Theories About It.

All Mothers Are Mothers Of Great People, And It Is Not Their Fault That Life Later Disappoints Them.

Yet The Order Of The Acts Is Planned And The End Of The Way Inescapable. I Am Alone; All Drowns In The Pharisees' Hypocrisy.