My Grief And My Smile Begin In

Writing Tends To Cheer Me; It Always Soothes My Spirit And Blesses Me With The Gift Of An Innocent, Tender, Childlike Day. It Is The Sensation Of Having Spent A Few Hours In My Homeland, With My Customs, Free Whims, My Total Freedom.

I Have All That I Lost And I Go Carrying My Childhood Like A Favorite Flower That Perfumes My Hand.

Many Things Can Wait. Children Cannot. Today Their Bones Are Being Formed, Their Blood Is Being Made, Their Senses Are Being Developed. To Them We Cannot Say "tomorrow." Their Name Is Today.

In The Secret Of Night, My Prayer Climbs Like The Liana, My Prayer Is, And I Am Not. It Grows, And I Perish. I Have Only My Hard Breath, My Reason And My Madness. I Cling To The Vine Of My Prayer. I Tend It At The Root Of The Stalk Of Night.

For Me, Religiosity Is ... The Constant Remembrance Of The Presence Of The Soul.