I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.
Jean-Paul SartreI exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my mouth. I swallow. It slides down my throat, it caresses me — and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me.
Jean-Paul SartreIt is enough that one man hate another for hate to gain, little by little, all mankind.
Jean-Paul Sartre