What is an adult? A child blown up by age.
Literature takes its revenge on reality by making it the slave of fiction.
Anyway I know only too well that all life is nothing but a brief reprieve from death.
There has to be a certain relationship between the life and the writing style, and that is really a problem.
I wish that every human life might be pure transparent freedom.
The body is not a thing, it is a situation: it is our grasp on the world and our sketch of our project