Men and women would be even more unhappy if they really understood one another.
The truths I shun follow me, mumbling.
The sun cares nothing for illumination.
In New York, pretending to be above the struggle means no seat on the bus and a table next to the kitchen.
When death comes too near, comedy and tragedy fall silent.
Totem poles and wooden masks no longer suggest tribal villages but fashionable drawing rooms in New York and Paris.