There Are More Things To Admire In

There Is A Life And There Is A Death, And There Are Beauty And Melancholy Between.

In Fact, It Comes To This: Nobody Is Capable Of Really Thinking About Anyone, Even In The Worst Calamity. For Really To Think About Someone Means Thinking About That Person Every Minute Of The Day, Without Letting One’s Thoughts Be Diverted By Anything- By Meals, By A Fly That Settles On One’s Cheek, By Household Duties, Or By A Sudden Itch Somewhere. But There Are Always Flies And Itches. That’s Why Life Is Difficult To Live.

And Never Have I Felt So Deeply At One And The Same Time So Detached From Myself And So Present In The World.

The More I Accuse Myself, The More Right I Have To Judge You. Even Better, I Make You Judge Yourself, Which Comforts Me The More.

I Lived With The Only Continuity, Day To Day, Of The Me-me-me.