One need not retreat to the Egyptian desert or the cliffs of Mount Athos to practice solitude. The modern metropolis—with its anonymity, cold concrete, and restless crowds—can become a voluntary desert for the soul that knows how to guard its interior peace.

In the midst of traffic, sirens, and flashing screens, a layman can construct a cell within his heart. Solitude is not geographical; it is a disposition of the spirit that refuses to let the noise of the world penetrate its innermost chamber.