I used to think then that all the tragic events of life were written down in books and that what went on outside was just diluted crap. - Henry Miller

I am a free man — and I need my freedom. I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company. What do you want of me? When I have something to say, I put it in print. When I have something to give, I give it. Your prying curiosity turns my stomach! Your compliments humiliate me! Your tea poisons me! I owe nothing to any one. I would be responsible to God alone — if He existed!

When a situation gets so bad that no solution seems possible there is left only murder or suicide. Or both. These failing, one becomes a buffoon.

I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them — not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever.