I doubt if he ever confronted and acknowledged his own deeper motivations, except when they were as pure as spring water.

You don't have to stay anywhere forever.

What is life? - A novel. Who is the author? - Anonymous. We read haltingly, laugh, weep... and sleep.

Что наша жизнь? - роман. Кто автор? - аноним. Читаем по складам, смеемся, плачем... спим.

At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.

I have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.' That's T.S. Eliot, in case you were wondering. An oldie but a goodie. When it came to existential exhaustion, the man was one smart cookie.

I am a clown...and I collect moments.