Explain Nothing. Put It There. Say It.

All The Things One Has Forgotten Scream For Help In Dreams.

A 'modern' Man Has Nothing To Add To Modernism, If Only Because He Has Nothing To Oppose It With. The Well-adapted Drop Off The Dead Limb Of Time Like Lice.

The Process Of Writing Has Something Infinite About It. Even Though It Is Interrupted Each Night, It Is One Single Notation.

Travelling, One Accepts Everything; Indignation Stays At Home. One Looks, One Listens, One Is Roused To Enthusiasm By The Most Dreadful Things Because They Are New. Good Travellers Are Heartless.

There Is No Such Thing As An Ugly Language. Today I Hear Every Language As If It Were The Only One, And When I Hear Of One That Is Dying, It Overwhelms Me As Though It Were The Death Of The Earth.