Futures Not Achieved Are Only Branches Of

The Best Introduction To The Psychological World Of One Of The Most Important And Gifted Writers Of Our Time.

...and Every Wednesday The Perfumed Young Lady Slips Me A Hundred-crown Note To Leave Her Alone With The Convict. And By Thursday The Hundred Crowns Are Already Gone In So Much Beer. And When The Visiting Hour Is Over, The Young Lady Comes Out With The Stink Of Jail In Her Elegant Clothes; And The Prisoner Goes Back To His Cell With The Lady's Perfume In His Jailbird's Suit. And I'm Left With The Smell Of Beer. Life Is Nothing But Trading Smells.

I Do Not Have Any Political Commitments Anymore. I'm Politically A Total Agnostic; I'm One Of The Few Writers In Italy Who Refuses To Be Identified With A Specific Political Party.

I Could Distinguish The Shape Of Her Bosom, Her Arms, Her Thighs, Just As I Remember Them Now, Just As Now, When The Moon Has Become That Flat, Remote Circle, I Still Look For Her As Soon As The First Sliver Appears In The Sky, And The More It Waxes, The More Clearly I Imagine I Can See Her, Her Or Something Of Her, But Only Her, In A Hundred, A Thousand Different Vistas, She Who Makes The Moon The Moon And, Whenever She Is Full, Sets The Dogs To Howling All Night Long, And Me With Them.

Every Time I Must Find Something To Do That Will Look Like Something A Little Beyond My Capabilities.