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It Is In General True That In Order To Create Works Of Art One Has To Have Leisure. On The Other Hand I Think That One Needs To Experience Resistance In A Practical Sense, And Even That Which Is Poignant To Bring Out What Makes Easy Reading For Others. Too Much Deprivation Of Course, Means Death.

Below The Incandescent Stars / Below The Incandescent Fruit, / The Strange Experience Of Beauty; / Its Existence Is Too Much; / It Tears One To Pieces / And Each Fresh Wave Of Consciousness / Is Poison.

There Never Was A War That Was Not Inward; I Must Fight Till I Have Conquered In Myself What Causes War.

We Prove, We Do Not Explain, Our Birth.

One Writes Because One Has A Burning Desire To Objectify What It Is Indispensable To One's Happiness To Express.