Every time we walk along a beach some ancient urge disturbs us so that we find ourselves shedding shoes and garments or scavenging among seaweed and whitened timbers like the homesick refugees of a long war
Sometimes the rarer, the beautiful can only emerge or survive in isolation. In a similar manner, some degree of withdrawal serves to nurture man's creative powers. The artist and scientist bring out of the dark void, like the mysterious universe itself, the unique, the strange, and unexpected.
From the solitude of the wood, Man has passed to the more dreadful solitude of the heart.
Many of us who walk to and fro upon our usual tasks are prisoners drawing mental maps of escape.
Tomorrow lurks in us, the latency to be all that was not achieved before.
It is frequently the tragedy of the great artist, as it is of the great scientist, that he frightens the ordinary man.