When a person knows and can't make the others understand, what does he do?

There's nothing that makes you so aware of the improvisation of human existence as a song unfinished. Or an old address book.

I´m a stranger in a strange land.

People felt themselves watching him even before they knew that there was anything different about him. His eyes made a person think that he heard things that no one else had ever heard, that he knew things no one had ever guessed before. He did not seem quite human.

We wander, question. But the answer waits in each separate heart - the answer of our own identity and the way by which we can master loneliness and feel that at last we belong.

The seed of the idea is developed by both labor and the unconscious, and the struggle that goes on between them.

For you see, when us people who know run into each other that's an event. It almost never happens. Sometimes we meet each other and neither guesses that the other is one who knows. That's a bad thing. It's happened to me a lot of times. But you see there are so few of us.