Every Word Has Consequences. Every Silence, Too.

Criticism Often Takes From The Tree Caterpillars And Blossoms Together.

I Said To Myself, 'i Want To Die Decently'.

People Who Live In Society Have Learnt How To See Themselves, In Mirrors, As They Appear To Their Friends. I Have No Friends: Is That Why My Flesh Is So Naked?

When You Live Alone You No Longer Know What It Is To Tell A Story: The Plausible Disappears At The Same Time As The Friends. You Let Events Flow By Too: You Suddenly See People Appear Who Speak And Then Go Away; You Plunge Into Stories Of Which You Can't Make Head Or Tail: You'd Make A Terrible Witness.

Why Do You Keep Maintaining Your Ideas Are Right If You Can't Prove Them?