I Am A Collection Of The Family's

There Were Three Of Us; Witkiewicz, Bruno Schulz, And Myself--the Three Muskateers Of The Polish Avant-garde Between The Wars. Only Witkiewicz Remains To Be Discovered.

I Am Reading Sienkiewicz. What Tormenting Reading. What A Powerful Genius! And There Never Was Such A First-rate Writer Of The Second-rate Class.

You Are Ugly When You Love Her, You Are Beautiful And Fresh, Vital And Free, Modern And Poetic When You Don't... You Are More Beautiful As An Orphan Than As Your Mother's Son.

I Didn't Go To The Lectures. My Valet, Who Was More Distinguished Than I, Went Instead.

Great! I've Written Something Stupid, But I Haven't Signed A Contract With Anyone To Produce Solely Wise And Perfect Works. I Gave Vent To My Stupidity...and Here I Am, Reborn.