We Never Remember Days, Only

Remember, Writing Poetry Is Like Making Love: One Will Never Know Whether One's Own Pleasure Is Shared.

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.

It's Pointless To Cry. One Is Born And Dies Alone.

The Whole Problem Of Life, Then, Is This: How To Break Out Of One's Own Loneliness, How To Communicate With Others.

Those Philosophers Who Believe In The Absolute Logic Of Truth Have Never Had To Discuss It On Close Terms With A Woman.