It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.
The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and 'mangled mind' leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
Don't tell your problems to people: eighty percent don't care; and the other twenty percent are glad you have them.
I have had just about all I can take of myself.
People need trouble -- a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it. Artists do; I don't mean you need to live in a rat hole or gutter, but you have to learn fortitude, endurance. Only vegetables are happy.
