It is, it seems, a social crime to desire solitude. - Jean Cocteau

Paris, however — because of her purely fortuitous beauty, because of the old things which have become a part of her, because of her entanglement of buildings and tenements — Paris yields herself in discovery as an attic beloved in our childhood gave up its secrets.

Consider metaphysics as an extension of the physical.

What is line? It is life. A line must live at each point along its course in such a way that the artist’s presence makes itself felt above that of the model... With the writer, line takes precedence over form and content. It runs through the words he assembles. It strikes a continuous note unperceived by ear or eye. It is, in a way, the soul’s style, and if the line ceases to have a life of its own, if it only describes an arabesque, the soul is missing and the writing dies.