And so it went on, day after day. This was not the first time that those who had at first smiled at him turned their backs on him and began to think of themselves instead of thinking of him. Sometimes it was as if you understood people's souls; a few days later, you understood nothing. One day you were kissed, and it meant everything; next day, you were not kissed.... He consoled himself by looking at his exercise books with the poems approaching the thousand total soon, and more. Perhaps the world would some day understand that the heart existed. Some day.

Heimsljós (World Light) (1940)