If I Write What I Feel, It's

I Feel As If I'm Always On The Verge Of Waking Up.

Nobody Appropriates Novelties As Readily As The Portuguese.

Literature Exists Because The World Isn't Enough.

After The Rains Departed The Skies And Settled On Earth - Clear Skies; Moist Brilliant Earth - Greater Clarity Returned To Life Alone With The Blue Above And Made The World Below Rejoice With The Freshness Of The Recent Rain. It Left Heaven In Our Souls And A Freshness In Our Hearts.

I Look For Myself But Find No One. I Belong To The Chrysanthemum Hour Of Bright Flowers Placed In Tall Vases. I Should Make An Ornament Of My Soul.