Very Early In My Life It Was

No Other Human Being, No Woman, No Poem Or Music, Book Or Painting Can Replace Alcohol In Its Power To Give Man The Illusion Of Real Creation.

That She Had So Completely Recovered Her Sanity Was A Source Of Sadness To Her. One Should Never Be Cured Of One's Passion.

It's Afterwards You Realize That The Feeling Of Happiness You Had With A Man Didn't Necessarily Prove That You Loved Him.

Words Don't Change Their Shape, They Change Their Meaning, Their Function...they Don't Have A Meaning Of Their Own Any More, They Refer To Other Words That You Don't Know, That You've Never Read Or Heard...you've Never Seen Their Shape, But You Feel...you Suspect...they Correspond To...an Empty Space Inside You...or In The Universe.

One Must Talk. That's How It Is. One Must.