I Didn't Choose Solitude.

I Knew There Were, In Myself, The Souls Of Millions Of People Who Lived Centuries Ago; Not Just People But Animals, Plants, The Elements, Things, Even, Matter. All Of These Exist In Me.

One Should Judge A Man Mainly From His Depravities. Virtues Can Be Faked. Depravities Are Real.

The Flamenco Of The Gypsy Has Nothing To Do With The Flamenco For Tourists. Real Flamenco Is Like Sex.

I Wish I'd Never Been An Actor. I'd Rather Have Been A Streetwalker, Selling My Body, Than Selling My Tears And My Laughter, My Grief And My Joy.

But Words - Words Are Not Enough!