A Criminal Is Undoubtedly A

I Really Only Write About Inner Landscapes And Most People Don't See Them, Because They See Practically Nothing Within, Because They Think That Because It's Inside, It's Dark, And So They Don't See Anything. I Don't Think I've Ever Yet, In Any Of My Books, Described A Landscape. There's Really Nothing Of The Kind In Any Of Them. I Only Ever Write Concepts. And So I'm Always Referring To "mountains" Or "a City" Or "streets." But As To How They Look: I've Never Produced A Description Of A Landscape. That's Never Even Interested Me.

One Day You're Cut Off, At The Very Start You're Cut Off And Can't Go Back, The Language You Learn And The Whole Business Of Walking And All The Rest Is For The Sake Of The Single Thought, How To Get Back Again.

You Are Never Truly Together With One You Love Until The Person In Question Is Dead And Actually Inside You.

All Of Living Is Nothing But A Fervid Attempt To Move Closer Together.

Those Who Live In The Country Get Idiotic In Time, Without Noticing It, For A While They Think It's Original And Good For Their Health, But Life In The Country Is Not Original At All, For Anyone Who Wasn't Born In And For The Country It Shows A Lack Of Taste And Is Only Harmful To Their Health. The People Who Go Walking In The Country Walk Right Into Their Own Funeral In The Country And At The Very Least They Lead A Grotesque Existence Which Leads Them First Into Idiocy, Then Into An Absurd Death.