Each Generation Must Get On The Same

I Was Always Restless, Always A Roving Spirit. When I Was A Little Child I Was Always Running Away. I Never Got Very Far, But They Were Always Having To Come And Fetch Me. Once When I Was About Six, My Father Came To Get Me Somewhere I'd Gone, And He Told Me Later He'd Asked Me, "why Are You So Restless? Why Can't You Stay Here With Us?" And I Said To Him, "i Want To Go And See The World. I Want To Know The World Like The Palm Of My Hand.

There Has Been A Marvelous Joyous Carnival Of Mourning For Edith Piaf And Jean Coctaeau, And It Was Real! They Died As They Had Lived, With Style And Grace And Their Proper Eccentricity; And Paris Loves Anybody Who Can Live Anarchically And Be Delightful Entertainment At The Same Time. So Do I.

Mexican Writer And Diplomat, "pasado En Claro" ("a Draft Of Shadows") You Learn Something The Day You Die. You Learn How To Die.

Nothing Is Mine, I Have Only Nothing But It Is Enough, It Is Beautiful And It Is All Mine. Do I Even Walk About In My Own Skin Or Is It Something I Have Borrowed To Spare My Modesty?

[on Gertrude Stein's Making Of Americans:] I Doubt If All The People Who Should Read It Will Read It For A Great While Yet, For It Is In Such A Limited Edition, And Reading It Is Anyhow A Sort Of Permanent Occupation.