I Am A Man-pen. I Feel Through

A Memory Is A Beautiful Thing, It's Almost A Desire That You Miss.

It Is Always Sad To Leave A Place To Which One Knows One Will Never Return.

For Every Bourgeois, In The Heat Of Youth, If Only For A Day, For A Minute, Has Believed Himself Capable Of Immense Passions, Of Heroic Enterprises. The Most Mediocre Libertine Has Dreamed Of Oriental Princesses; Every Rotary Carries About Inside Him The Debris Of A Poet.

The Citadel Of Machaerus Rose East Of The Dead Sea On A Basalt Peak Shaped Like A Cone, Girdled By Four Deep Valleys; Two About Its Sides, One In Front, And The Fourth Behind.

Writing This Book I Am Like A Man Playing The Piano With Lead Balls Attached To His Knuckles.