...he Was Just Scraps Of Words And

...he Was Just Scraps Of Words And Dislocated Phrases.

I Did Not Want To Be Anything, And Naturally I Did Not Want To Turn Myself Into A Mere Profession: All I Ever Wanted Was To Be Myself.

One Day You're Cut Off, At The Very Start You're Cut Off And Can't Go Back, The Language You Learn And The Whole Business Of Walking And All The Rest Is For The Sake Of The Single Thought, How To Get Back Again.

You Are Never Truly Together With One You Love Until The Person In Question Is Dead And Actually Inside You.

...we Ask: Why Suicide? We Search For Reasons, Causes, And So On.... We Follow The Course Of The Life He Has Now So Suddenly Terminated As Far Back As We Can. For Days We Are Preoccupied With The Question: Why Suicide? We Recollect Details. And Yet We Must Say That Everything In The Suicide's Life- For Now We Know That All His Life He Was A Suicide, Led A Suicide's Existence- Is Part Of The Cause, The Reason, For His Suicide.