Memories Are Like Stones, Time And Distance

Who Cares About Great Marks Left Behind? We Have One Life... Just One. Our Life. We Have Nothing Else.

A Long Association-prolonged Human Contact, When A Man And Woman Live Together-this Ends Up Producing A Sort Of Rot, A Poison.

If We Have Anything Kind To Say, Any Tender Sentiment To Express, We Feel A Sense Of Shame.

Behind Everything We Feel, There Is Always A Sense Of Fear.

At Any Given Moment, I Open My Eyes And Exist.