Drinking Isn't Necessarily The Same

I've Forgotten The Words With Which To Tell You. I Knew Them Once, But I've Forgotten Them, And Now I'm Talking To You Without Them.

Madness Is Like Intelligence, You Know. You Can't Explain It. Just Like Intelligence. It Comes On You, It Fills You, And Then You Understand It. But When It Goes Away You Can't Understand It At All Any Longer.

You Alone Became The Outer Surface Of My Life, The Side I Never See, And You Will Be That, The Unknown Part Of Me, Until I Die.

The Solitude Of Writing Is A Solitude Without Which Writing Could Not Be Produced, Or Would Crumble, Drained Bloodless By The Search For Something Else To Write.

People Come To Paris, To The Capital, To Give Their Lives A Sense Of Belonging, Of An Almost Mythical Participation In Society.