I Cannot Escape The Objection That There

All The Translations Of A Poem In All Possible Languages May Add Nuance To Nuance And, By A Kind Of Mutual Retouching, By Correcting One Another, May Give An Increasingly Faithful Picture Of The Poem They Translate, Yet They Will Never Give The Inner Meaning Of The Original.

In Laughter We Always Find An Unavowed Intention To Humiliate And Consequently To Correct Our Neighbour.

I See Plainly How External Images Influence The Image That I Call My Body : They Transmit Movement To It.

Action On The Move Creates Its Own Route, Creates To A Very Great Extent The Conditions Under Which It Is To Be Fulfilled And Thus Baffles All Calculation.

There Is Nothing [that] Disarms Us Like Laughter.