To Contest An Author's Right To Create

The Simplest Of Women Are Wonderful Liars Who Can Extricate Themselves From The Most Difficult Dilemmas With A Skill Bordering On Genius.

Ale, Not Beer, In A Pewter Mug Was Comme Il Faut, The Only Thing For A Gentleman Of Letters, Worthy Of The Name, To Drink.

We Breathe Love As We Breathe Air; We Hold It In Ourselves As We Hold Our Thoughts. Nothing More Exists For Us.

Were A Man To Spend Only One Day In Sicily And Ask, "what Must One See?" I Would Answer Him Without Hesitation, "taormina." It Is Only A Landscape, But A Landscape Where You Find Everything On Earth That Seems Made To Seduce The Eyes, The Mind And The Imagination.

I Go To Bed, And I Wait For Sleep As A Man Might Wait For The Executioner. I Wait For Its Coming With Dread, And My Heart Beats And My Legs Tremble, While My Whole Body Shivers Beneath The Warmth Of The Bedclothes, Until The Moment When I Suddenly Fall Asleep, As A Man Throws Himself Into A Pool Of Stagnant Water In Order To Drown. I Do Not Feel This Perfidious Sleep Coming Over Me As I Used To, But A Sleep Which Is Close To Me And Watching Me, Which Is Going To Seize Me By The Head, To Close My Eyes And Annihilate Me.