Man Is In Need If A Symbolical

Solitude Is For Me A Fount Of Healing Which Makes My Life Worth Living. Talking Is Often A Torment For Me, And I Need Many Days Of Silence To Recover From The Futility Of Words.

The Creative Mind Plays With The Object It Loves.

Nobody, As Long As He Moves About Among The Chaotic Currents Of Life, Is Without Trouble.

We Live In A World Which In Some Respects Is Mysterious; Things Can Be Experienced Which Remain Inexplicable; Not Everything Which Happens Can Be Anticipated. The Unexpected And The Incredible Belong In This World. Only Then Is Life Whole. For Me The World Has From The Beginning Been Infinite And Ungraspable.

Moreover, My Ancestors' Souls Are Sustained By The Atmosphere Of The House, Since I Answer For Them The Questions That Their Lives Once Left Behind. I Carve Out Rough Answers As Best I Can. I Have Even Drawn Them On The Walls. It Is As If A Silent, Greater Family, Stretching Down The Centuries, Were Peopling The House.