We Spend Our Days In Deliberating, And

Maman Died Today. Or Yesterday Maybe, I Don't Know. I Got A Telegram From The Home: 'mother Deceased. Funeral Tomorrow. Faithfully Yours.' That Doesn't Mean Anything. Maybe It Was Yesterday.

It Takes Time To Live. Like Any Work Of Art, Life Needs To Be Thought About.

Fancy Language, Like Poplin, Too Often Conceals An Eczema.

If God Did Not Exist, We Should Have To Invent Him. If God Did Exist, We Should Have To Abolish Him.

There Is But One Freedom, To Put Oneself Right With Death. After That Everything Is Possible.