Memory Is A Mirror That Scandalously Lies.

Now That I Think About It, It Seems To Me That’s What Idiocy Is: The Ability To Be Enthusiastic All The Time About Anything You Like, So That A Drawing On The Wall Does Not Have To Be Diminished By The Memory Of The Frescoes Of Giotto In Padua.

The Evolution From Happiness To Habit Is One Of Death's Best Weapons.

The Short-story Writer Knows That He Can't Proceed Cumulatively, That Time Is Not His Ally. His Only Solution Is To Work Vertically, Heading Up Or Down In Literary Space.

La Maga Did Not Know That My Kisses Were Like Eyes Which Began To Open Up Beyond Her, And That I Went Along Outside As If I Saw A Different Concept Of The World, The Dizzy Pilot Of A Black Prow Which Cut The Water Of Time And Negated It.

Only By Living Absurdly Is It Possible To Break Out Of This Infinite Absurdity.