I Want To Make A Poem Of

Mine Was The Unbearable Jealousy A Cultured Pearl Must Feel Toward A Genuine One. Or Can There Be Such A Thing In This World As A Man Who Is Jealous Of The Woman Who Loves Him, Precisely Because Of Her Love?

As Usual, It Occurred To Me That Words Were The Only Thing That Could Possibly Save Me From This Situation. This Was A Characteristic Misunderstanding On My Part. When Action Was Needed, I Was Absorbed In Words; For Words Proceeded With Such Difficulty From My Mouth That I Was Intent On Them And Forgot All About Action. It Seemed To Me That Actions, Which Are Dazzling, Varied Things, Must Always Be Accompanied By Equally Dazzling And Equally Varied Words.

To See Human Beings In Agony, To See Them Covered In Blood And To Hear Their Death Groans, Makes People Humble. It Makes Their Spirits Delicate, Bright, Peaceful. It's Never At Such Times That We Become Cruel Or Bloodthirsty. No, It's On A Beautiful Spring Afternoon Like This That People Suddenly Become Cruel. It's At A Moment Like This, Don't You Think, While One's Vaguely Watching The Sun As It Peeps Through The Leaves Of The Trees Above A Well-mown Lawn? Every Possible Nightmare In The World, Every Possible Nightmare In History, Has Come Into Being Like This.

There's A Huge Seal Called 'impossibility' Pasted All Over This World. And Don't Ever Forget That We're The Only Ones Who Can Tear It Off Once And For All.

Quite Possibly, What I Call Happiness May Coincide With What Others Call The Moment Of Imminent Danger