He Entered The Territory Of Lies Without

The Sense Of Unhappiness Is So Much Easier To Convey Than That Of Happiness. In Misery We Seem Aware Of Our Own Existence, Even Though It May Be In The Form Of A Monstrous Egotism: This Pain Of Mine Is Individual, This Nerve That Winces Belongs To Me And To No Other. But Happiness Annihilates Us: We Lose Our Identity.

Perhaps The Comparison Is Closer To The Chinese Cook Who Leaves Hardly Any Part Of A Duck Unserved.

She Mixes Religion With Desertion To Make It Sound Noble.

Yesterday I Went Home With Him And We Did The Usual Things. I Haven't The Nerve To Put Them Down, But I'd Like To, Because Now When I'm Writing It's Already Tomorrow And I'm Afraid Of Getting To The End Of Yesterday. As Long As I Go On Writing, Yesterday Is Today And We Are Still Together

Reality In Our Century Is Not Something To Be Faced.