Little Flashes Of Sun On The Surface

I Am Finishing A Biography Of [gustave] Flaubert. Because He Is The Opposite Of What I Am. One Needs To Rub Up Against Argument.

It Is Therefore Senseless To Think Of Complaining Since Nothing Foreign Has Decided What We Feel, What We Live, Or What We Are.

Ah! How I Hate The Crimes Of The New Generation: They Are Dry And Sterile As Darnel.

The Existentialist Says At Once That Man Is Anguish.

The Form [of Literature] Matters Little To Me, Classical Or Not.