The Only Real Failure Is

Maybe Each Human Being Lives In A Unique World, A Private World, A World Different From Those Inhabited And Experienced By All Other Humans.

Madness, Like Small Fish, Runs In Hosts, In Vast Numbers Of Instances.

Reality Is Just A Point Of View.

Writing Is A Lonely Way Of Life. You Shut Yourself Up In Your Study And Work And Work.

What Constitutes The Authentic Human Being?