How Well I Would Write If I

Today Each Of You Is The Object Of The Other’s Reading, One Reads In The Other The Unwritten Story.

Photography Has A Meaning Only If It Exhausts All Possible Images.

The Catalogue Of Forms Is Endless: Until Every Shape Has Found Its City, New Cities Will Continue To Be Born. When The Forms Exhaust Their Variety And Come Apart, The End Of Cities Begins.

...and Every Wednesday The Perfumed Young Lady Slips Me A Hundred-crown Note To Leave Her Alone With The Convict. And By Thursday The Hundred Crowns Are Already Gone In So Much Beer. And When The Visiting Hour Is Over, The Young Lady Comes Out With The Stink Of Jail In Her Elegant Clothes; And The Prisoner Goes Back To His Cell With The Lady's Perfume In His Jailbird's Suit. And I'm Left With The Smell Of Beer. Life Is Nothing But Trading Smells.

The Contradiction [trying To Use Russian Model To Reshape Italy] Grew To Such An Extent That I Felt Totally Cut Off From The Communist World And, In The End, From Politics. That Was Fortunate. The Idea Of Putting Literature In Second Place, After Politics, Is An Enormous Mistake, Because Politics Almost Never Achieves Its Ideals.