I Long For Solitude And Yet I

Childhood Is The World Of Miracle Or Of Magic: It Is As If Creation Rose Luminously Out Of The Night, All New And Fresh And Astonishing. Childhood Is Over The Moment Things Are No Longer Astonishing. When The World Gives You A Feeling Of "déjà Vu," When You Are Used To Existence, You Become An Adult.

We Are All Looking For Something Of Extraordinary Importance Whose Nature We Have Forgotten; I Am Writing The Memoirs Of A Man Who Has Lost His Memory.

I Just Can't Get Used To Life.

Shakespeare Was The Great One Before Us. His Place Was Between God And Despair.

The More I Try To Explain Myself, The Less I Understand Myself.