We Love Best Those Who Are, Or

The Period Without The Diary Remains An Ordeal. Every Evening I Want My Diary As One Wants Opium.

In My Childhood Diary I Wrote: “i Have Decided That It Is Better Not To Love Anyone, Because When You Love People, Then You Have To Be Separated From Them, And That Hurts Too Much.

He, Who Had Done More Than Any Human Being To Draw Her Out Of The Caves Of Her Secret, Folded Life, Now Threw Her Down Into Deeper Recesses Of Fear And Doubt. The Fall Was Greater Than She Had Ever Known, Because She Had Ventured So Far Into Emotion And Had Abandoned Herself To It.

Analysis Does Not Take Into Account The Creative Products Of Neurotic Desires.

Perhaps The Only Magician We Have Is The Artist.