I've never forgotten for long at a time that living is struggle. I kno >>
Literature is the orchestration of platitudes. >>
For what human ill does dawn not seem to be alternative? >>
Just as all thought, and primarily that of non-signification, signifie >>
How could drops of water know themselves to be a river? Yet the river >>
If you seek, how is that different from pursuing sound and form? If yo >>
There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.