In Love There Are No Vacations. No

Perhaps Someone Will Have Seen Mine, The One I’m Waiting For, Just As I Saw Him, In A Ditch When His Hands Were Making Their Last Appeal And His Eyes No Longer Could See. Someone Who Will Never Know What That Man Was To Me; Someone Whose Name I’ll Never Know.

You Have To Be Very Fond Of Men. Very, Very Fond. You Have To Be Very Fond Of Them To Love Them. Otherwise They're Simply Unbearable.

Suddenly, All At Once, She Knows, Knows That He Doesn't Understand Her, That He Never Will, That He Lacks The Power To Understand Such Perverseness. And That He Can Never Move Fast Enough To Catch Her.

A Book Consists Of Two Layers: On Top, The Readable Layer ... And Underneath, A Layer That Was Inaccessible. You Only Sense Its Existence In A Moment Of Distraction From The Literal Reading, The Way You See Childhood Through A Child. It Would Take Forever To Tell What You See, And It Would Be Pointless.

Some People Are Like That - Closed - They Can't Learn From Anyone. Us, For Example, We Can't Learn Anything, Neither I From You Nor You From Me, Nor From Anyone, Nor From Anything, Nor From What Happens.