Until The Day Of His Death No

Our Entire Life, With Our Fine Moral Code And Our Precious Freedom, Consists Ultimately In Accepting Ourselves As We Are.

Talent Is Like A Faucet, While It Is Open, One Must Write.

With God, What Is Terrible Is That One Never Knows Whether It's Not Just A Trick Of The Devil.

Obligations, Hatreds, Injuries; What Did I Expect My Memories To Be? I Was Forgetting Remorse. Now I Have A Complete Past.

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.