There Are The Two Curses Of Spain,

I Belong To This Notebook And This Pencil.

No One Should Be Alone In Their Old Age, He Thought.

There Isn't Any Me. I'm You. Don't Make Up A Separate Me.

For Her Everything Was Red, Orange, Gold-red From The Sun On The Closed Eyes, And It All Was That Color, All Of It, The Filling, The Possessing, The Having, All Of That Color, All In A Blindness Of That Color." - Ernest Hemingway.

I Kissed Her Hard And Held Her Tight And Tried To Open Her Lips; They Were Closed Tight.