As I think about myself, I find myself standing in a crazy mirror room, each reflecting my image caricatured by judgments and prejudices; the mirror then which reflects my true image is my own conscience. But what can I write about myself?
What can I write about my achievements? For what appears to world as triumphs are bauble things for me and vice versa.
What can I write about my beliefs? For what I believed a few years back, I hardly believe them today.
What can I write about my thoughts? Thoughts, which like sea waves, sometimes rise and touch the sky and sometimes fall in the depths of depression.
What can I write about my intellect? For it alone is the source of noble thoughts and