Literature Professes To Be Important While At

The Disaster Ruins Everything, All The While Leaving Everything Intact.

There Is Between Sleep And Us Something Like A Pact, A Treaty With No Secret Clauses, And According To This Convention It Is Agreed That, Far From Being A Dangerous, Bewitching Force, Sleep Will Become Domesticated And Serve As An Instrument Of Our Power To Act. We Surrender To Sleep, But In The Way That The Master Entrusts Himself To The Slave Who Serves Him.

As Reason Returned To Me, Memory Came With It, And I Saw That Even On The Worst Days, When I Thought I Was Utterly And Completely Miserable, I Was Nevertheless, And Nearly All The Time, Extremely Happy. That Gave Me Something To Think About. The Discovery Was Not A Pleasant One. It Seemed To Me That I Was Losing A Great Deal. I Asked Myself, Wasn't I Sad, Hadn't I Felt My Life Breaking Up? Yes, That Had Been True; But Each Minute, When I Stayed Without Moving In A Corner Of The Room, The Cool Of The Night And The Stability Of The Ground Made Me Breathe And Rest On Gladness.

My Being Subsists Only From A Supreme Point Of View Which Is Precisely Incompatible With My Point Of View. The Perspective In Which I Fade Away For My Eyes Restores Me As A Complete Image For The Unreal Eye To Which I Deny All Images. A Complete Image With Reference To A World Devoid Of Image Which Imagines Me In The Absence Of Any Imaginable Figure. The Being Of A Nonbeing Of Which I Am The Infinitely Small Negation Which It Instigates As Its Profound Harmony. In The Night Shall I Become The Universe?

A Writer Who Writes, ''i Am Alone''... Can Be Considered Rather Comical. It Is Comical For A Man To Recognize His Solitude By Addressing A Reader And By Using Methods That Prevent The Individual From Being Alone. The Word Alone Is Just As General As The Word Bread. To Pronounce It Is To Summon To Oneself The Presence Of Everything The Word Excludes.