Language Is The Source Of Misunderstandings.

But Eyes Are Blind. You Have To Look With The Heart.

I Am Who I Am And I Have The Need To Be.

What Was My Body To Me? A Kind Of Flunkey In My Service. Let But My Anger Wax Hot, My Love Grow Exalted, My Hatred Collect In Me, And That Boasted Solidarity Between Me And My Body Was Gone.

No Single Event Can Awaken Within Us A Stranger Whose Existence We Had Never Suspected. To Live Is To Be Slowly Born.

A Child Is Not Frightened At The Thought Of Being Patiently Transmuted Into An Old Man.