If People Did Not Want

The Fools Who Write Articles About Me Think That One Morning I Suddenly Decided To Write And Began To Produce Masterpieces. There Is No Special Trick About Writing, Or Painting Either. I Wrote Constantly For 15 Years Before I Produced Anything With Any Solidity To It.

In Youth There Are Always Two Forces Fighting In People. The Warm Unthinking Little Animal Struggles Against The Thing That Reflects And Remembers

He Thought About Himself And To The Young That Always Brings Sadness.

The Eighteen Years He Has Lived Seem But A Moment, A Breathing Space In The Long March Of Humanity. Already He Hears Death Calling. With All His Heart He Wants To Come Close To Some Other Human, Touch Someone With His Hands, Be Touched By The Hand Of Another.

It Has Long Been My Desire To Be A Little Worm In The Fair Apple Of Progress.