For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.
Four QuartetsI felt angry, frustrated. I felt I didn't belong, not in my, church, not in my home, not in my skin.
BurnedEvery work of art belongs to his time. I would not paint again the Mona Lisa in the third dimension.
Alejandro JodorowskyA hothouse flower trained to bloom out of season and in the wrong climate. I do not belong.
My Father's Gardens