Men And Animals Regard Each

The Seasons And The Years Came And Went...and Always...one Was, As The Crow Flies, About 2,000 Km Away - But From Where? - And Day By Day Hour By Hour, With Every Beat Of The Pulse, One Lost More And More Of One's Qualities, Became Less Comprehensible To Oneself, Increasingly Abstract.

Only In The Books Written In Earlier Times Did She Sometimes Think She Found Some Faint Idea Of What It Might Be Like To Be Alive.

I Have Always Kept Ducks, Even As A Child, And The Colours Of Their Plumage, In Particular The Dark Green And Snow White, Seemed To Me The Only Possible Answer To The Questions That Are On My Mind.

How I Wished During Those Sleepless Hours That I Belonged To A Different Nation, Or Better Still, To None At All.

To Set One's Name To A Work Gives No One A Title To Be Remembered, For Who Knows How Many Of The Best Of Men Have Gone Without A Trace? The Iniquity Of Oblivion Blindly Scatters Her Poppyseed And When Wretchedness Falls Upon Us One Summer's Day Like Snow, All We Wish For Is To Be Forgotten.