Schopenhauer said that life is a choice between loneliness and vulgarity. It seems rather contradictory to learn that I have company on my side of the disjunction.
I think Arthur meant "solitude", not "loneliness.
Brilliant. This was simultaneously hilarious and poignant, and I think said more than my far more massive essay on love ever did.
Bitter. So bitter. So lonely, so sad.
Bitter maybe. But there's energy here. The sort that leads to the movement one does when biting into a lemon, waiting a bit and then licking some cut up strawberries.
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