Whenever There Has Been Talk

I Wept When The Muse Ulla Bent Over Me. Blinded By Tears I Could Not Prevent Her From Kissing Me, I Could Not Prevent The Muse From Giving Me That Terrible Kiss. All Of You Who Have Ever Been Kissed By The Muse Will Surely Understand That Oskar, Once Branded By That Kiss, Was Condemned To Take Back The Drum He Had Rejected Years Before, The Drum He Had Buried In The Sand Of Sapse Cemetery.

Where Man Had Been, In Every Place He Left, Garbage Remained. Even In His Pursuit Of The Ultimate Truth And Quest For His God, He Produced Garbage. By His Garbage, Which Lay Stratum Upon Stratum, He Could Always - One Had Only To Dig - Be Known. For More Long-lived Than Man Is His Refuse. Garbage Alone Lives After Him.

Often I Had To Imagine The Things I Needed. I Learned Very Early To Read Amidst Noise. And So I Started Writing And Drawing At An Early Age.

I Expected More From Literature Than From Real, Naked Life.

Can It Be That Action Is Active Resignation? Something Is Trying To Develop; It Moves Ever So Slightly, And There Comes Your Man Of Action And Bashes In The Hothouse Windows.