In Guinea I Could Read [franz] Kafka.

It Is Disgusting -- Why Must We Have Bodies?

With Despair, True Optimism Begins: The Optimism Of The Man Who Expects Nothing, Who Knows He Has No Rights And Nothing Coming To Him, Who Rejoices In Counting On Himself Alone And In Acting Alone For The Good Of All.

Do You Think I Can Read [alain] Robbe-grillet In An Underdeveloped Country? He Does Not Feel Himself Maimed.

The Form [of Literature] Matters Little To Me, Classical Or Not.

I Had Spent My Time Counterfeiting Eternity.