She Felt The Abyss Of Disenchantment.

It Is Life, More Than Death, That Has No Limits.

Everything That Goes Into My Mouth Seems To Make Me Fat, Everything That Comes Out Of My Mouth Embarrasses Me.

But That Afternoon He Asked Himself, With His Infinite Capacity For Illusion, If Such Pitiless Indifference Might Not Be A Subterfuge For Hiding The Torments Of Love.

In Journalism Just One Fact That Is False Prejudices The Entire Work. In Contrast, In Fiction One Single Fact That Is True Gives Legitimacy To The Entire Work. That's The Only Difference, And It Lies In The Commitment Of The Writer. A Novelist Can Do Anything He Wants So Long As He Makes People Believe In It.

Just Imagine, A Cow On The Balcony Of The Nation, What An Awful Thing, What A Shitty Country.