One Knows Less About One's

I Felt The Vulnerability, The Fragility Of The Children Of The World, And How It Was, Nonetheless, On Their Frail Shoulders That We Loaded The Weight Of Our Weary Hopes And Eternal New Beginnings.

Curiosity Ran Unchecked Through Him, Like The Wind Outside Through The Deserted Streets, Along The Canal, Around The Little Wooden Houses, Everywhere, As Far As The Mountain.

My Great Hope Would Be That Quebec Would Realize Itself Fully As A Distinct Part Of Canada, And Stay Canadian, Bringing To Canada A Part Of Its Richness.

It's A Funny Life. Either You Don't Make A Red Cent And You Have All The Time In The World, Or Else You Get Double The Money And You Don't Have A Moment To Spend A Penny Of It.

The Main Engagement Of The Writer Is Towards Truthfulness; Therefore He Must Keep His Mind And His Judgment Free.