I can't go on. I'll go on.

Over, over, there is a soft place in my heart for all that is over, no, for the being over, words have been my only loves, not many.

Our vulgar perception is not concerned with other than vulgar phenomena.

Perhaps that's what I feel, an outside and an inside and me in the middle, perhaps that's what I am, the thing that divides the world in two, on the one side the outside, on the other the inside, that can be as thin as foil, I'm neither one side nor the other, I'm in the middle, I'm the partition, I've two surfaces and no thickness, perhaps that's what I feel, myself vibrating, I'm the tympanum, on the one hand the mind, on the other the world, I don't belong to either.

Mysterious affair, electricity.

We spend our life, it's ours, trying to bring together in the same instant a ray of sunshine and a free bench

I try. I fail. I try again. I fail better.