What I want is to live of that initial and primordial something that was what made some things reach the point of aspiring to be human.

I write to save someone's life, probably my own

Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.

So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.

For at the hour of death you became a celebrated film star, it is a moment of glory for everyone, when the choral music scales the top notes.

But I welcome the darkness where the two eyes of that soft panther glow. The darkness is my cultural broth. The enchanted darkness. I go on speaking to you, risking disconnection: I’m subterraneously unattainable because of what I know.

Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?