Living in the deep woods is no escape. The trees become mirrors and only your voice answers back.

The most remarkable thing about him was his eyes. Deeply sunk, they blazed with a steady fire of fanaticism. They never twitched. His eyelids seemed paralysed.

Wilhelm Kotarbiński ( 1848 – 1921, Polish)-Suicide’s grave.

Emil M. Cioran, from On the Heights of Despair.

They have the best of it; they keep in the shadow, while on him alone falls, with the light, all the shame of having a face.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge (1910)

A Rural Story photographed by Juergen Teller, Vogue Italia November 1998

Rain, ca. 1937 - by Adolph Fassbender