A Man Who Lives Unrelated

There Are Many Ways To Be Free. One Of Them Is To Transcend Reality By Imagination, As I Try To Do.

The Frenchman, By Nature, Is Sensuous And Sensitive. He Has Intelligence, Which Makes Him Tired Of Life Sooner Than Other Kinds Of Men. He Is Not Athletic: He Sees The Futility Of The Pursuit Of Fame; The Climate At Times Depresses Him.

We Also Write To Heighten Our Own Awareness Of Life... We Write To Taste Life Twice, In The Moment, And In Retrospection... We Write To Be Able To Transcend Our Life, To Reach Beyond It...to Teach Ourselves To Speak With Others, To Record The Journey Into The Labyrinth. We Write To Expand Our World When We Feel Strangled, Or Constricted, Or Lonely... When I Don't Write, I Feel My World Shrinking... I Feel I Lose My Fire And My Color.

Throw Your Dreams Into Space Like A Kite, And You Do Not Know What It Will Bring Back, A New Life, A New Friend, A New Love, A New Country.

There Are Books Which We Read Early In Life, Which Sink Into Our Consciousness And Seem To Disappear Without Leaving A Trace. And Then One Day We Find, In Some Summing-up Of Our Life And Put Attitudes Towards Experience, That Their Influence Has Been Enormous.