Everyone Became Brave From Excess Of Terror.

Me And My Books In The Same Apartment, Like A Gherkin In Its Vinegar.

Je Suis Autant Chinois Que Fran C° Ais. I Am As Much Chinese As French.

… Her Heart Remained Empty Once More, And The Procession Of Days All Alike Began Again. So They Were Going To Follow One Another, Like This, In Line, Always Identical, Innumerable, Bringing Nothing!

Love, She Thought, Must Come Suddenly, With Great Outbursts And Lightnings,--a Hurricane Of The Skies, Which Falls Upon Life, Revolutionises It, Roots Up The Will Like A Leaf, And Sweeps The Whole Heart Into The Abyss.

There Comes A Point At Which You Stop Writing And Think All The More