I did not want to write, but I had to resign myself to it in the end.

With all this darkness round me I feel less alone.

But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.

I cannot explain my plays. Each must find out for himself what is meant

Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end.

Better hope deferred than none.

Over, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.