It is remarkable that art, the surest way of communicating our deepest thoughts and feelings, is born out of solitude.
The great writers of music and word speak of this. Mozart told a friend that music came to him when he was entirely alone and added, “Where it comes from I do not know.” The Russian poet Anna Akhmatova wrote about sitting alone in her room, awaiting the arrival of her Muse: “My dear guest, with her little flute in hand. She comes, wrapped in her shawl, looking at me intently.”