I like to have space to spread my mind out in.
But I pine in Solitude. Solitude is my undoing.
Life piles up so fast that I have no time to write out the equally fast rising mound of reflections.
Do not move, do not go. Sink within this moment. Hold it for ever.
I [who] am perpetually making notes in the margin of my mind for some final statement.
To depend upon a profession is a less odious form of slavery than to depend upon a father.