So she stood naked in front of the young man and at this moment stopped playing the game.

But was it love? The feeling of wanting to die beside her was clearly exaggerated: he had seen her only once before in his life! Was it simply the hysteria of a man, who, aware deep down of his inaptitude for love, felt the self-deluding need to simulate it?

Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.

Ah, ladies and gentlemen, a man lives a sad life when he cannot take anything or anyone seriously.

For the body is temporal and thought is eternal and the shimmering essence of flame is an image of thought.

I am not in favor of imposing happiness on people. Everyone has a right to his bad wine, to his stupidity, and to his dirty fingernails.

If I hadn't met you, I'd certainly have fallen in love with him.