I go into solitude— so as not to drink out of everybody’s cistern. When I am among the many I live as the many do, and I do not think as I really think; after a time it always seems as though they want to banish me from myself and rob me of my soul— and I grow angry with everybody and fear everybody. I then require the desert.
Going into the richness of silence and solitude, and a return to myself, today.
That is all.