Just As All Thought, And Primarily That

You Know Very Well That I No Longer Think. I Am Far Too Intelligent For That.

Methods Of Thought Which Claim To Give The Lead To Our World In The Name Of Revolution Have Become, In Reality, Ideologies Of Consent And Not Of Rebellion.

We Are Rebels For A Cause, Poets With A Dream , And We Won't Let This World Die Without A Fight.

For The First Time In A Long Time I Thought About Maman. I Felt As If I Understood Why At The End Of Her Life She Had Taken A 'fiancé,' Why She Had Played At Beginning Again. Even There, In That Home Where Lives Were Fading Out, Evening Was A Kind Of Wistful Respite. So Close To Death, Maman Must Have Felt Free Then And Ready To Live It All Again. Nobody, Nobody Had The Right To Cry Over Her. And I Felt Ready To Live It All Again Too.

I Don't Want To Represent Man As He Is, But Only As He Might Be.