Isn't living the name of our constant and laborious effort to "exist as ourselves" in the midst of the despair that surrounds us a little more each day? A true artist lives that life with us, as one of us; He beats it in the air of his soul and brings out of it another world More sincere, more sensitive, more subtle.
The world is not a hell, it is not heaven, just like in my soul I am neither as they want nor as I want, neither good nor bad, neither hopeful nor hopeless, I am exactly here, one side of me is always in the middle of purgatory heaven and hell, my soul is alive.
