The Essential Doesn't Change.

I Don't Know Why I Told This Story. I Could Just As Well Have Told Another. Perhaps Some Other Time I'll Be Able To Tell Another. Living Souls, You Will See How Alike They Are.

Then I Went Back Into The House And Wrote, It Is Midnight. The Rain Is Beating On The Windows. It Was Not Midnight. It Was Not Raining.

And All These Questions I Ask Myself. It Is Not In A Spirit Of Curiosity. I Cannot Be Silent. About Myself I Need Know Nothing. Here All Is Clear. No, All Is Not Clear. But The Discourse Must Go On. So One Invents Obscurities. Rhetoric.

The Situation Is That Of Him Who Is Helpless, Cannot Act, In The Event Cannot Paint, Since He Is Obliged To Paint. The Act Is Of Him Who, Helpless, Unable To Act, Acts, In The Event Paints, Since He Is Obliged To Paint.

The Fact Is, It Seems, That The Most You Can Hope Is To Be A Little Less, In The End, The Creature You Were In The Beginning, And The Middle.