Don’t focus on what I’m wearing. Focus on what’s coming out of my face.
Other people’s problems often appear simple. When I was young, I often wondered how adults got trapped, in a world with so many possibilities. Now I know: we trap ourselves, inevitably.
This doesn’t mean everybody will be miserable, but that everybody can be, because as we turn our futures into pasts the shapes of our lives become immutable. I think that many people respond to this growing wooden mass of prior choices by embracing the portrait they have made of themselves, because if what they have built is not coherent, what purpose did it serve? In this way, we become caricatures, wax figures of ourselves.
One day, when Paul was practicing at one of the seven grand pianos in their winter home, the Palais Wittgenstein, he leaped up and shouted at his brother Ludwig in the room next door, ‘I cannot play when you are in the house, as I feel your skepticism seeping towards me from under the door!’