...language Is Never Innocent.

I Want To Be Both Pathetic And Admirable, I Want To Be At The Same Time A Child And An Adult. Thereby I Gamble, I Take A Risk: For It Is Always Possible That The Other Will Simply Ask No Question Whatever About These Unaccustomed Glasses; That The Other Will See, In The Fact, No Sign.

The New Is Not A Fashion, It Is A Value.

Henceforth I Would Have To Cosent To Combine Two Voices: The Voice Of Banality (to Say What Everyone Sees And Knows) And The Voice Of Singularity (to Replenish Such Banality With All The élan Of An Emotion Which Belonged Only To Myself).

It Is Said That Mourning, By Its Gradual Labour, Slowly Erases Pain; I Could Not, I Cannot Believe This; Because For Me, Time Eliminates The Emotion Of Loss (i Do Note Weep), That Is All. For The Rest, Everything Has Remained Motionless. For What I Have Lost Is Not A Figure (the Mother), But A Being; And Not A Being, But A Quality (a Soul): Not The Indispensable, But The Irreplaceable.

Today There Is No Symbolic Compensation For Old Age, No Recognition Of A Specific Value: Wisdom, Perceptiveness, Experience, Vision.