By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.

I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais!

I cannot disobey something which I do not know and the reality of which I have the right to deny.

And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.

a person hoping to become a poet must have the capacity of thinking of several things at a time.

Why do those people guess so much and shave so little, and are so disdainful of hearing aids?

Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.