I am my own Universe, I my own Professor.
When I teach people, I marry them.
What a desire! ... to live in peace with that word: Myself.
Off fall the wife, the mother, the lover, the teacher, and the violent artist takes over. I am I alone. I belong to no one but myself. I mate with no one but the spirit. I own no land, have no kin, no friend or enemy. I have no road but this one.
Self-forgetfulness in creativity can lead to self-transcendence.
When love turns away, now, I don't follow it. I sit and suffer, unprotesting, until I feel the tread of another step.