Blind Yourself, For I Am Blind.

We're Like So Many Puppets Hung On The Wall, Waiting For Someone To Come And Move Us Or Make Us Talk.

When The Characters Are Really Alive Before Their Author, The Latter Does Nothing But Follow Them In Their Action, In Their Words, In The Situations Which They Suggest To Him.

We All Have A World Of Things Inside Ourselves And Each One Of Us Has His Own Private World. How Can We Understand Each Other If The Words I Use Have The Sense And The Value That I Expect Them To Have, But Whoever Is Listening To Me Inevitably Thinks That Those Same Words Have A Different Sense And Value, Because Of The Private World He Has Inside Himself, Too.

Life Is A Very Sad Piece Of Buffoonery, Because We Have .. The Need To Fool Ourselves Continuously By The Spontaneous Creation Of A Reality .. Which, From Time To Time, Reveals Itself To Be Vain And Illusory.

Whatever Is A Reality Today, Whatever You Touch And Believe In And That Seems Real For You Today, Is Going To Be - Like The Reality Of Yesterday - An Illusion Tomorrow.