We're Artists Too, But We Do A

Then He Went Out Without Touching Anything And Put His Arm Around Ingeborg, And Like That, With Their Arms Around Each Other, They Returned To The Village While The Whole Past Of The Universe Fell On Their Heads.

In The Current Socio-political Climate, He Said To Himself, Committing Suicide Is Absurd And Redundant. Better To Become An Undercover Poet.

You Have To Know How To Look Even If You Don't Know What You're Looking For.

If Life Is Misery, Why Do We Endure It?

I'd Obviously Never Heard Of The Group, But My Ignorance In Literary Matters Is To Blame For That (every Book In The World Is Out There Waiting To Be Read By Me).