My Unhappiness Protects Me From Life.

I Think A Lot About The Poems I Wasn't Able To Write...i Masturbrated...solitude Is Essentially A Matter Of Pride; You Bury Yourself In Your Own Scent. The Issue Is The Same For All Real Poets. If You've Been Happy For Too Long, You Become Banal. By The Same Token, If You've Been Unhappy For A Long Time, You Lose Your Poetic Power...happiness And Poverty Can Only Coexist For The Briefest Time. Afterword Either Happiness Coarsens The Poet Or The Poem Is So True It Destroys His Happiness.

In A Brutal Country Like Ours, Where Human Life Is 'cheap', It's Stupid To Destroy Yourself For The Sake Of Your Beliefs. Beliefs? High Ideas? Only People In Rich Countries Can Enjoy Such Luxuries.

In Fact, My Entire Childhood Consisted Of Looking At Photographs In Which The Viewer Sees The Ball Behind The Line, Looking Through The Goal Net, And The Poor Goalkeeper In Front Of The Net.

Let Me First State Forthright That Contrary To What We've Often Read In Books And Heard From Preachers, When You Are A Woman, You Don't Feel Like The Devil.

My Hero Wants To Belong Too, But He Doesn't Want To Give Up All The Things He Came To Value In The West.