In Our Life There Is A Single

If All Life Moves Inevitably Towards Its End, Then We Must, During Our Own, Colour It With Our Colours Of Love And Hope.

The Fingers Must Be Educated, The Thumb Is Born Knowing.

I Am Working In Paris . I Cannot For A Single Day Get The Thought Out Of My Head That There Probably Exists Something Essential, Some Immutable Reality, And Now That I Have Lost Everything Else (thank God, It Gets Lost All On Its Own) I Am Trying To Preserve This And, What Is More, Not To Be Content. In A Word: I Am Working.

In My Youth, Poverty Enriched Me, But Now I Can Afford Wealth.

On Cannot Be Precise, And Still Be True.