Sometimes I Think I'm Liquefying

God Is Only A Word Dreamed Up To Explain The World

What Is The Beautiful, If Not The Impossible.

I Believe That If One Always Looked At The Skies, One Would End Up With Wings.

Prose Is Like Hair; It Shines With Combing.

He Was Bored Now When Emma Suddenly Began To Sob On His Breast; And His Heart, Like The People Who Can Only Stand A Certain Amount Of Music, Became Drowsy Through Indifference To The Vibrations Of A Love Whose Subtleties He Could No Longer Distinguish.