We Are Aware Only Of The Empty

What I Have Always Wanted For Myself Is Much More Primitive. It Is Probably Nothing More Than The Affection Of The People With Whom I Am In Contact, And Their Good Opinion Of Me.

My Different Personalities Leave Me In Peace Now.

The Horrors Of War, Pale Beside The Loss Of A Mother

Everything Becomes So Problematic Because Of Basic Faults: From A Discontent With Myself.

How One Can Live Without Being Able To Judge Oneself, Criticize What One Has Accomplished, And Still Enjoy What One Does, Is Unimaginable To Me.