Loving Means Getting Rid Of Names.

Literature Is The Expression Of A Feeling Of Deprivation, A Recourse Against A Sense Of Something Missing. But The Contrary Is Also True: Language Is What Makes Us Human. It Is A Recourse Against The Meaningless Noise And Silence Of Nature And History.

Solitude Is The Profoundest Fact

It Is Not Proper To Project Our Feelings Onto Things Or To Attribute Our Own Sensations And Passions To Them. Can It Also Be Improper To See In Them A Guide, A Way Of Life? To Learn The Art Of Remaining Motionless Amid The Agitation Of The Whirlwind, To Learn To Remain Still And To Be As Transparent As This Fixed Light Amid The Frantic Branches This May Be A Program For Life.

Reality Is A Staircase Going Neither Up Nor Down, We Don't Move; Today Is Today, Always Is Today.

By Suppressing Differences And Peculiarities, By Eliminating Different Civilizations And Cultures, Progress Weakens Life And Favors Death