Byron: The luxuries of this place have made me soft.The metal point's gone from my pen, there's nothing left but the feather.
Gutman:That may be true.But what can you do about it?
Byron:Make a departure.
Gutman:From yourself?
Byron:From my present self to myself as I used to be!
Gutman:That's the furthest departure a man could make!
It's not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn't understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out.
A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help.