If Only We Could See

It Is Misery, You Know, Unspeakable Misery For The Man Who Lives Alone And Who Detests Sordid, Casual Affairs; Not Old Enough To Do Without Women, But Not Young Enough To Be Able To Go And Look For One Without Shame!

The Facts Are To Blame, My Friend. We Are All Imprisoned By Facts: I Was Born, I Exist.

Not One Of Us Can Lie Or Pretend. We're All Fixed In Good Faith In A Certain Concept Of Ourselves.

The Father: But Don't You See That The Whole Trouble Lies Here? In Words, Words. Each One Of Us Has Within Him A Whole World Of Things, Each Man Of Us His Own Special World. And How Can We Ever Come To An Understanding If I Put In The Words I Utter The Sense And Value Of Things As I See Them; While You Who Listen To Me Must Inevitably Translate Them According To The Conception Of Things Each One Of You Has Within Himself. We Think We Understand Each Other, But We Never Really Do.

If You Shut Yourself Up Disdainfully In Your Ivory Tower And Insist That You Have Your Own Conscience And Are Satisfied With Its Approval, It Is Because You Know That Everybody Is Criticizing You, Condemning You, Or Laughing At You.