On The Internet, Everyone Is

But Knowledge Does Not Protect One. Life Is Contemptuous Of Knowledge; It Forces It To Sit In The Anterooms, To Wait Outside. Passion, Energy, Lies: These Are What Life Admires. Still, Anything Can Be Endured If All Humanity Is Watching. The Martyrs Prove It. We Live In The Attention Of Others. We Turn To It As Flowers To The Sun.

There Is No Complete Life. There Are Only Fragments. We Are Born To Have Nothing, To Have It Pour Through Our Hands. And Yet, This Pouring, This Flood Of Encounters, Struggles, Dreams...

In 1957, I Decided: Write Or Perish.

Solitude. One Knows Instinctively It Has Benefits That Must Be More Deeply Satisfying Than Those Of Other Conditions, But Still It Is Difficult.

You Are Perfectly Entitled To Invent Your Life And To Claim That It's True.