“Sadly, I worshipped my childhood, I was fragile and all-powerful at the same time. I had the right to rule in a world created for my pleasure, which was enough for me. What was real interested me not at all for it did not burden me. I had the time to watch the most unenterprising insect, to make a beetle go round and round, to make a string of ants climb up a stem, I had time to count my steps, and to count the numbers of stamens in the heart of a daisy. I knew all about dates, odors, shapes.”