"Mayakovsky often felt lonely, but it wasn’t because people didn’t love him, or because he had no friends or needed more recognition. His poems were published, people read his work and listened to him in crowded halls. There were countless numbers of people who were devoted to him and loved him. But it was all only a drop in the ocean for him. He was, as Brik said, a man who had "an insatiable thief in his soul." He felt it was necessary that he should be read by the people who didn’t read him, that he should be heard by the audiences who stayed away from his readings, and that he should be loved by the woman, who it seemed to him, didn’t love him. There was nothing to be done."