Each Of Us Is Sometimes

My Collection Of Rare Books Concerns Only Books That Don't Tell The Truth.

I Love The Smell Of Book Ink In The Morning.

How Does A Person Feel When Looking At The Sky? He Thinks That He Doesn't Have Enough Tongues To Describe What He Sees. Nevertheless, People Have Never Stopping Describing The Sky, Simply Listing What They See.

A Writer Writes For Writers, A Non-writer Writes For His Next-door Neighbor Or For The Manager Of The Local Bank Branch, And He Fears (often Mistakenly) That They Would Not Understand Or, In Any Case, Would Not Forgive His Boldness.

The Poets Did Not Win; The Philosophers Surrendered.