...life Is Nothing But Trading Smells.

The Sea Where Living Creatures Were At One Time Immersed Is Now Enclosed Within Their Bodies.

Without Translation, I Would Be Limited To The Borders Of My Own Country. The Translator Is My Most Important Ally. He Introduces Me To The World.

Nobody These Days Holds The Written Word In Such High Esteem As Police States Do.

A Writer's Work Has To Take Account Of Many Rhythms: Vulcan's And Mercury's, A Message Of Urgency Obtained By Dint Of Patient And Meticulous Adjustments And An Intuition So Instantaneous That, When Formulated, It Acquires The Finality Of Something That Could Never Have Been Otherwise. But It Is Also The Rhythm Of Time That Passes With No Other Aim Than To Let Feelings And Thoughts Settle Down, Mature, And Shed All Impatience Or Ephemeral Contingency.

Elsewhere Is A Negative Mirror. The Traveler Recognizes The Little That Is His, Discovering The Much He Has Not Had And Will Never Have.