An Excess Of Childhood Is The Germ

We Comfort Ourselves By Reliving Memories Of Protection

To Feel Most Beautifully Alive Means To Be Reading Something Beautiful.

The Past Of The Soul Is So Distant! The Soul Does Not Live On The Edge Of Time. It Finds Its Rest In The Universe Imagined By Reverie.

To Go Upstairs In The Word House Is To Withdraw Step By Step; While To Go Down To The Cellar Is To Dream.

Here Is Menard's Own Intimate Forest: 'now I Am Traversed By Bridle Paths, Under The Seal Of Sun And Shade...i Live In Great Density...shelter Lures Me. I Slump Down Into The Thick Foliage...in The Forest, I Am My Entire Self. Everything Is Possible In My Heart Just As It Is In The Hiding Places In Ravines. Thickly Wooded Distance Separates Me From Moral Codes And Cities.