“You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.”
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I sat staring, staring, staring - half lost, learning a new language or rather the same language in a different dialect. So still were the big woods where I sat, sound might not yet have been born.
I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.
The artist himself may not think he is religious, but if he is sincere his sincerity in itself is religion.
Life's an awfully lonesome affair. You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.