Words Dazzle And Deceive Because

Love Always Has Its Price, Come Whence It May.

One Sometimes Weeps Over One's Illusions With As Much Bitterness As Over A Death.

I Go To Bed, And I Wait For Sleep As A Man Might Wait For The Executioner. I Wait For Its Coming With Dread, And My Heart Beats And My Legs Tremble, While My Whole Body Shivers Beneath The Warmth Of The Bedclothes, Until The Moment When I Suddenly Fall Asleep, As A Man Throws Himself Into A Pool Of Stagnant Water In Order To Drown. I Do Not Feel This Perfidious Sleep Coming Over Me As I Used To, But A Sleep Which Is Close To Me And Watching Me, Which Is Going To Seize Me By The Head, To Close My Eyes And Annihilate Me.

To Contest An Author's Right To Create A Poetic Or Realistic Work Is To Want To Force Him To Change His Temperament, Challenge His Originality, Refuse To Allow Him To Use The Eye And The Intelligence Nature Has Given Him.

Of All The Passions, The Only One That Seems Respectable To Me Is The Passion For Food