For People Who Live On Expectations, To

What Is Being Said Is The Effect Of Something That Has Happened; At The Same Time, What Is Being Said Is In Itself Something Happening, Which Will, In Turn, Leave Its Effect.

History Is Not A Book, Arbitrarily Divided Into Chapters, Or A Drama Chopped Into Separate Acts; It Has Flowed Forward. Rome Is A Continuity, Called 'eternal.' What Has Accumulated In This Place Acts On Everyone, Day And Night, Like An Extra Climate.

Every Love Has A Poetic Relevance Of Its Own; Each Love Brings To Light Only What To It Is Relevant. Outside Lies The Junk-yard Of What Does Not Matter.

I Pity People Who Do Not Care For Society. They Are Poorer For The Oblation They Do Not Make.

Grown-up People Seem To Be Busy By Clockwork... They Run Their Unswerving Course From Object To Object, Directed By Some Mysterious Inner Needle That Points All The Time To What They Must Do Next. You Can Only Marvel At Such Misuse Of Time.