The Truth Came Slowly Like A Story

When I Had A Few Francs, I Spent Them At A Café On The Place De Longchamps, A Block Or So From My Pension, Where I Could Order A Glass Of Beaujolais And A Plate Of String Beans In Vinaigrette For The Equivalent Of Fifteen Cents.

I Don't Like To Listen To Music While I'm Working.

I Was The Goldfish That Leapt Out Of The Bowl.

I Have A Painter's Memory. I Can Remember Things From My Childhood Which Were So Powerfully Imprinted On Me, The Whole Scene Comes Back.

Words Are Nets Through Which All Truth Escapes.