We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — “Yes, that’s the way it is, or at least that’s the way I feel it. You’re not as alone as you thought.”
People who lead a solitary existence always have something in their hearts which they are eager to talk about.[У людей, живущих одиноко, всегда бывает на душе что-нибудь такое, что они охотно бы рассказали.]
In the world of the dreamer there was solitude: all the exaltations and joys came in the moment of preparation for living. They took place in solitude.