It Is Not A Bad Thing That

One Keeps Forgetting Old Age Up To The Very Brink Of The Grave.

If We Want To Be Sincere, We Must Admit That There Is A Well-nourished Love And An Ill-nourished Love. And The Rest Is Literature.

Voluptuaries, Consumed By Their Senses, Always Begin By Flinging Themselves With A Great Display Of Frenzy Into An Abyss. But They Survive, They Come To The Surface Again. And They Develop A Routine Of The Abyss: It's Four O Clock. At Five I Have My Abyss.

A Few Days Later, I Found My Mother Beneath The Tree, Motionless With Excitement, Her Head Turned Toward The Heavens In Which She Would Allow Human Religions No Place.

No Temptation Can Ever Be Measured By The Value Of Its Object.