I started my life with a single absolute: that the world was mine to shape in the image of my highest values and never to be given up to a lesser standard, no matter how long or hard the struggle.
I regret nothing. There have been things I missed, but I ask no questions, because I have loved it, such as it has been, even the moments of emptiness, even the unanswered – and that I loved it, that is the unanswered in my life.
I love you so much that nothing can matter to me – not even you. Can you understand that? Only my love – not your answer. Not even your indifference.
I have, let’s say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find the joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standards – and I set my own standards. I inherit nothing. I stand at the end of no tradition. I may, perhaps, stand at the beginning of one.
I don’t wish to be the symbol of anything. I’m only myself.
I don’t intend to build in order to have clients. I intend to have clients in order to build.
I could die for you. But I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, live for you.
I can accept anything, except what seems to be the easiest far most people: the halfway, the almost, the just-about, the in-between.
He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another’s personality, marking vulnerable points.
He is free to evade reality, he is free to unfocus his mind and stumble blindly down any road he pleases, but not free to avoid the abyss he refuses to see.
Have you felt it too? Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you – except the things that count? And your most important is nothing to them; nothing, not even a sound they can recognize.
Have you ever felt the longing for someone you could admire? For something, not to look down at, but up to?
