The Softness Of The Summer Day Like

We Travel, Some Of Us Forever, To Seek Other States, Other Lives, Other Souls.

The Preoccupation Of The Novelist: How To Capture The Living Moments, Was Answered By The Diary. You Write While You Are Alive. You Do Not Preserve Them In Alcohol Until The Moment You Are Ready To Write About Them.

In My Dreams I Sleep With Everybody.

You Marry The Day You Realize The Human Defects Of Your Love.

There Are Very Few Human Beings Who Receive The Truth, Complete And Staggering, By Instant Illumination. Most Of Them Acquire It Fragment By Fragment, On A Small Scale, By Successive Developments, Cellularly, Like A Laborious Mosaic.