A Man’s Dying Is More The Survivors’

A Man Lives Not Only His Personal Life, As An Individual, But Also, Consciously Or Unconsciously, The Life Of His Epoch And His Contemporaries.

(t)here Was A Story They Used To Tell At Home About A Girl Whose Punishment Was That Every Time She Opened Her Mouth, Snakes And Toads Came Out, Snakes And Toads With Every Word. The Book Didn't Say What She Did About It, But I've Always Assumed She Probably Ended Up Keeping Her Mouth Shut.

The Observations And Encounters Of A Solitary, Taciturn Man Are Vaguer And At The Same Times More Intense Than Those Of A Sociable Man; His Thoughts Are Deeper, Odder And Never Without A Touch Of Sadness. Images And Perceptions That Could Be Dismissed With A Glance, A Laugh, An Exchange Of Opinions, Occupy Him Unduly, Become More Intense In The Silence, Become Significant, Become An Experience, An Adventure, An Emotion. Solitude Produces Originality, Bold And Astonishing Beauty, Poetry. But Solitude Also Produces Perverseness, The Disproportionate, The Absurd And The Forbidden.

Technology And Comfort - Having Those, People Speak Of Culture, But Do Not Have It.

Solitude Gives Birth To The Original In Us, To Beauty Unfamiliar And Perilous - To Poetry. But Also, It Gives Birth To The Opposite: To The Perverse, The Illicit, The Absurd.