Art Is Endless Like A River Flowing,

My Advanced Age Has Taught Me The Resignation Of Being Borges.

I Saw All The Mirrors On Earth And None Of Them Reflected Me.

On The Floor, And Hanging On To The Bar, Squatted An Old Man, Immobile As An Object. His Years Had Reduced And Polished Him As Water Does A Stone Or The Generations Of Men Do A Sentence.

Truth Never Penetrates An Unwilling Mind.

Writing Is Only A Guided Dream.