It Is Normal To Give Away A

When There Is No Hope, One Must Invent Hope.

When I Look At My Life And Its Secret Colors, I Feel Like Bursting Into Tears.

But What Does It Mean, The Plague? It's Life, That's All.

How Many Crimes Are Permitted Simply Because Their Authors Could Not Endure Being Wrong.

The Byronic Hero, Incapable Of Love, Or Capable Only Of An Impossible Love, Suffers Endlessly. He Is Solitary, Languid, His Condition Exhausts Him. If He Wants To Feel Alive, It Must Be In The Terrible Exaltation Of A Brief And Destructive Action.