How Strange Women Are.

For A Week, Almost Without Speaking, They Went Ahead Like Sleepwalkers Through A Universe Of Grief, Lighted Only By The Tenuous Reflection Of Luminous Insects, And Their Lungs Were Overwhelmed By A Suffocating Smell Of Blood.

He Repeated Until His Dying Day That There Was No One With More Common Sense, No Stonecutter More Obstinate, No Manager More Lucid Or Dangerous, Than A Poet.

Make No Mistake: Peaceful Madmen Are Ahead Of The Future.

Surrealism Comes From The Reality Of Latin America.

You Have To Have Spent The Night At Sea, Sitting In A Life Raft And Looking At Your Watch, To Know That The Night Is Immeasurably Longer Than The Day.