The Only Joy In The

In Fact A Man In Love Or One Consumed With Hatred Creates Symbols For Himself, As A Superstitious Man Does, From A Passion Of Conferring Uniqueness On Things Or Persons. A Man Who Knows Nothing Of Symbols Is One Of Dante's Sluggards. This Is Why Art Mirrors Itself In Primitive Rites Or Strong Passions, Seeking For Symbols, Revolving Round The Primitive Taste For Savagery, For What Is Irrational (blood And Sex).

The Only Reason Why We Are Always Thinking Of Our Own Ego Is That We Have To Live With It More Continuously Than With Anyone Else's.

One Stops Being A Child When One Realizes That Telling One's Trouble Does Not Make It Any Better.

Things Are Revealed Through The Memories We Have Of Them. Remembering A Thing Means Seeing It Only Then For The First Time.

Literature Is A Defense Against The Attacks Of Life. It Says To Life: You Can't Deceive Me. I Know Your Habits, Foresee And Enjoy Watching All Your Reactions, And Steal Your Secret By Involving You In Cunning Obstructions That Halt Your Normal Flow.