Hypotheses pinned me down, as Gulliver was pinned by the countless threads of the Lilliputians... - John Fowles

That's all. Just paint. That's my advice. Leave the clever talk to the poor sods who can't.

By this characteristically twentieth century retreat from content into form, from meaning into appearance, from ethics into aesthetics, from aqua into unda, I dulled the pain of accusing death, and hardened myself.

I had got away from what I hated, but I hadn’t found where I loved, and so I pretended that there was nowhere to love.