One Writes In Order To

How Can I Look Back And Not Speak Of The Stupid Learning About Birth? Of The Stupid Learning That People Make Love, And How It Seemed The Reason For All Things, The Intimacy Of My Wondering, The Illumination That To An Adolescent Was The Cause For Life Around Me, The Reason Why The Unhappy People I Knew Did Not Kill Themselves?

Whatever Can Happen To Anyone Can Happen To Me.

What Three Things Can Never Be Done? / Forget. Keep Silent. Stand Alone

I Am Working Out The Vocabulary Of My Silence.

A Work Of Art Is One Through Which The Consciousness Of The Artist Is Able To Give Its Emotions To Anyone Who Is Prepared To Receive Them.