You Take It From Me,

Good Or Ill, Life Is Life; You Only Realize That When You Have To Risk It.

No Soldier Outlives A Thousand Chances. But Every Soldier Believes In Chance And Trusts His Luck.

One Often Feels As Though Something Had Happened Before, I Remember. It Comes Quite Close To You And Stands There And You Know It Was Just This Way Once Before, Exactly So; For An Instant You Almost Know How It Must Go On, But Then It Disappears As You Try To Lay Hold Of It Like Smoke Or A Dead Memory. "we Could Never Remember, Isabelle," I Say. "it's Like The Rain. That Has Also Become One, Out Of Two Gasses, Oxygen And Hydrogen, Which No Longer Remember They Were Once Gasses. Now They Are Only Rain And Have No Memory Of An Earlier Time.

(ravic Speaking Of A Butterfly Caught In The Louvre) In The Morning It Would Search For Flowers And Life And The Light Honey Of Blossoms And Would Not Find Them And Later It Would Fall Asleep On Millennial Marble, Weakened By Then, Until The Grip Of The Delicate, Tenacious Feet Loosened And It Fell, A Thin Leaf Of Premature Autumn.

We Are Not Youth Any Longer. We Don’t Want To Take The World By Storm. We Are Fleeing. We Fly From Ourselves. From Our Life. We Were Eighteen And Had Begun To Love Life And The World; And We Had To Shoot It To Pieces.