I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.

Solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature.

I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind

Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.

I gang my own gait and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties I have never lost an obstinate sense of detachment, of the need for solitude — a feeling which increases with the years.

Youth condemns; maturity condones