The Task Of A Writer Is Not

By Poeticizing Love, We Imagine In Those We Love Virtues That They Often Do Not Possess; This Then Becomes The Source Of Constant Mistakes And Constant Distress.

The Snow Has Not Yet Left The Earth But Spring Is Already Asking To Enter Your Heart.

How Unbearable At Times Are People Who Are Happy, People For Whom Everything Works Out.

When All Is Said And Done, No Literature Can Outdo The Cynicism Of Real Life; You Won't Intoxicate With One Glass Someone Who Has Already Drunk Up A Whole Barrel.

Write, Write, Write-till Your Fingers Break.