Each Day Is A Little Bit Of

The Minds Of Human Beings Are Not Always Entirely At One With The World In Which They Live, Some People Have Trouble Adjusting To Reality, Basically They're Just Weak, Confused Spirits Who Use Words, Sometimes Very Skillfully, To Justify Their Cowardice.

Everything In This World Can Volunteer Some Reply, What Takes Up Time Is Posing The Questions.

Death Is The Inventor Of God.

Blind People Do Not Need A Name, I Am My Voice, Nothing Else Matters.

At The End Of The 1950s, I Started Working At A Publishing Company, Estudios Cor, As Production Manager, So Returning, But Not As An Author, To The World Of Letters I Had Left Some Years Before.