Stupid — Well, There Are

I Stand Between Two Worlds. I Am At Home In Neither, And I Suffer In Consequence. You Artists Call Me A Bourgeois, And The Bourgeois Try To Arrest Me...i Don't Know Which Makes Me Feel Worse.

Laughter Is A Sunbeam Of The Soul.

The Observations And Encounters Of A Devotee Of Solitude And Silence Are At Once Less Distinct And More Penetrating Than Those Of The Sociable Man; His Thoughts Are Weightier, Stranger, And Never Without A Tinge Of Sadness. Images And Perceptions Which Might Otherwise Be Easily Dispelled By A Glance, A Laugh, An Exchange Of Comments, Concern Him Unduly, They Sink Into Mute Depths, Take On Significance, Become Experiences, Adventures, Emotions.

I Shall Need To Sleep Three Weeks On End To Get Rested From The Rest I've Had.

If You Are Possessed By An Idea, You Find It Expressed Everywhere, You Even Smell It.