Life is full of paradoxes, as roses are of thorns.
If after I die, people want to write my biography, there is nothing simpler. They only need two dates: the date of my birth and the date of my death. Between one and another, every day is mine.
To choose ways of not acting was ever the concern and scruple of my life.
And as well as I dream, I reason if I want, for that's just another kind of dream.
The beauty of a naked body is felt only by the dressed races.
I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it’s not me.