You Are Perfectly Entitled To Invent Your

You Can Write About Other People And Their Ideas And Life Without Having Lived It, But Even Your Perception Of That Is Going To Be Colored By What You Know And What You Experience. And This Is Undeniable.

To Write? Because All This Is Going To Vanish. The Only Thing Left Will Be The Prose And Poems, The Books, What Is Written Down. Man Was Very Fortunate To Have Invented The Book. Without It The Past Would Completely Vanish, And We Would Be Left With Nothing, We Would Be Naked On Earth.

There Is No Complete Life. There Are Only Fragments. We Are Born To Have Nothing, To Have It Pour Through Our Hands. And Yet, This Pouring, This Flood Of Encounters, Struggles, Dreams...

One Of The Last Great Realizations Is That Life Will Not Be What You Dreamed.

In A Certain Sense, A Writer Is An Exile, An Outsider, Always Reporting On Things, And It Is Part Of His Life To Keep On The Move. Travel Is Natural.