Ser Compreendido é Prostituir-se.

Destiny Gave Me Only Two Things: A Few Accounting Books And The Gift Of Dreaming.

The Slope Takes You To The Windmill, But Effort Takes You Nowhere.

A Being Who, As I Grew Older, Lost Imagination, Emotion, A Type Of Intelligence, A Way Of Feeling Things - All That Which, While It Made Me Sorry, Did Not Horrify Me. But What Am I Experiencing When I Read Myself As If I Were Someone Else? On Which Bank Am I Standing If I See Myself In The Depths?

I Bear The Wounds Of All The Battles I Avoided.

Let Us Sculpt In Hopeless Silence All Our Dreams Of Speaking.