For me the most interesting thing about a solitary life,and mine has been that for the last twenty years,is that it becomes increasingly rewarding.
When I can wake up and watch the sun rise over the ocean,as I do most days,and know that I have an entire day ahead,uninterrupted,in which to write a few pages,take a walk with my dog,lie down in the afternoon for a think（Why does one think better in a horizontal position?),read and listen to music,I am flooded with happiness.
I am lonely only when I am overtired,when I have worked too long without a break,when for the time being I feel empty and need filling up.
And I am lonely sometimes when I come back home after a lecture trip,when I have seen a lot of people and talked a lot,and am full to the brim with experience that needs to be sorted out.
Then for a little while the house feels huge and empty,and I wonder where myself is hiding.
It has been recaptured slowly by watering the plants,perhaps,and looking again at each one as though it were a person,by feeding the two cats,by cooking a meal.
It takes a while,as I watch the surf blowing up in fountains at the end of the field,but the moment when the world falls away,and the self emerges again from the deep unconsciousness,bringing back all I have recently experienced to be explored and slowly understood,when I can converse again with my hidden powers,and so grow,and so be rewarded,till death do us part.