I Have A Painter's Memory. I Can

When You Read To A Child, When You Put A Book In A Child's Hands, You Are Bringing That Child News Of The Infinitely Varied Nature Of Life. You Are An Awakener.

There Was No Way To Grasp The Reality Of The Present Which Slid Away Each Second, Invisible As Air; Reality Only Existed After The Fact, In One's Vision Of The Past.

When I Begin A Story At My Desk, The Window To My Back, The Path Is Not There. As I Start To Walk, I Make The Path.

The Language Of Labels Is Like Paper Money, Issued Irresponsibly, With Nothing Of Intrinsic Value Behind It, That Is, With No Effort Of The Intelligence To See, To Really Apprehend.

When I Had A Few Francs, I Spent Them At A Café On The Place De Longchamps, A Block Or So From My Pension, Where I Could Order A Glass Of Beaujolais And A Plate Of String Beans In Vinaigrette For The Equivalent Of Fifteen Cents.