I' Is Merely One Of The World's

To Think Is An Act. To Feel Is A Fact.

So Long As I Have Questions To Which There Are No Answers, I Shall Go On Writing.

I Want The Following Word: Splendor, Splendor Is Fruit In All Its Succulence, Fruit Without Sadness. I Want Vast Distances. My Savage Intuition Of Myself.

Reality Prior To My Language Exists As An Unthinkable Thought. . . . Life Precedes Love, Bodily Matter Precedes The Body, And One Day In Its Turn Language Shall Have Preceded Possession Of Silence.

What I Want Is To Live Of That Initial And Primordial Something That Was What Made Some Things Reach The Point Of Aspiring To Be Human.