I Know That Man Is Capable Of

There Is A Solitude In Poverty, But A Solitude Which Restores To Each Thing Its Value.

Man Is Always Prey To His Truths. Once He Has Admitted Them, He Cannot Free Himself From Them.

She Was Waiting, But She Didn't Know For What. She Was Aware Only Of Her Solitude, And Of The Penetrating Cold, And Of A Greater Weight In The Region Of Her Heart.

I Was Absent At The Moment I Took Up The Most Space.

Don't Let Them Tell Us Stories.