Verrà La Morte E Avrà I Tuoi

If It Is True That One Gets Used To Suffering, How Is It That As The Years Go One Always Suffers More? No, They Are Not Mad, Those People Who Amuse Themselves, Enjoy Life, Travel, Make Love, Fight They Are Not Mad. We Should Like To Do The Same Ourselves.

Men Who Have A Tempestuous Inner Life And Do Not Seek To Give Vent To It By Talking Or Writing Are Simply Men Who Have No Tempestuous Inner Life. Give Company To A Lonely Man And He Will Talk More Than Anyone.

Traveling Is A Brutality. It Forces You To Trust Strangers And To Lose Sight Of All That Familiar Comfort Of Home And Friends. You Are Constantly Off Balance. Nothing Is Yours Except The Essential Things: Air, Sleep, Dreams, Sea, The Sky - All Things Tending Towards The Eternal Or What We Imagine Of It.

Certainly, To Have A Woman Who Waits At Home For You, Who Will Sleep With You, Gives A Warm Feeling Like Having Something You Must Say; It Makes You Glow, Keeps You Company, Helps You To Live.

It's Pointless To Cry. One Is Born And Dies Alone.