... After three weeks of being still inside the tomb, I still worry about my lucky readers and literary: really that vanity is the last to die ...
... Love is like the eclipses, rarely happens, because although in principle we can fall in love with anyone, in fact very difficult: it requires that half bubble that is our love will emerge to the surface and, moreover, matches that another bubble is incomplete love of others. Therefore, when it occurs, takes a moment like all bubbles and eclipses: love is perverse: it is like thirst or hunger, a need, but a distinct need which can not satisfy with any bread or a sip taken anywhere: it is a thirst that only water and a hunger for an exact person, but the person is cheating themselves, inappropriate, there is no way bathe twice in it, as the river of Heraclitus ...
... I call upon all the living forces of the country, young people who have fresh in our capacity for indignation, the true democratic spirit, which sucks spontaneous feel how it is conceived in past; I appeal to everyone, so that together we go to hell ...
... It is useless, therefore, describe the Devil, since, except the horns, which are the common denominator in all other respects each person brings their own Diablo in the pupil ...
... Life is a nightgown that others force us to adjust, always expect something from us that we keep true to ourselves, that we keep our word, we give the promise, and if we depart the runway, immediately rise outraged portrait of what we were to say with confidence: "I never believed you," or saying tearfully: "I've failed," and you have to back down, becoming the statue that others appreciate, resume their paper and run for the umpteenth time the crippled self-representation with parliaments tested ...
... They are six-thirty in the afternoon and no change of subject, I repeat: I am physical, spiritual, biological, sociological, philosophical, economic, psychological, chemical and mathematical sick of my life and, according to my calculations, you also Dear Reader otherwise would not be reading this book to distract ...
... If any reader has the privilege of selecting its writers, it's just that once an author to exercise the right to decide who will be their partners. I believe that the publication of a text is not reason enough for anybody else creates the power to stick their noses where they do not call, and as I will not return cryptic to remove someone from this page, I demand to happy to go away ...
An adventure quickly dissolves easily in acid dreary day: a quiet pivot returns us to the bed of hours domesticated ...
necessary to advance the steps are not registered in any circle, not even in the spiral of pleasure every now and then revived, and is screwed "customary love" ...
... Love is like the eclipses, rarely happens, because although in principle we can fall in love with anyone, in fact very difficult: it requires that half bubble that is our love will emerge to the surface and, moreover, matches that another bubble is incomplete love of others. Therefore, when it occurs, takes a moment like all bubbles and eclipses: love is perverse: it is like thirst or hunger, a need, but a distinct need which can not satisfy with any bread or a sip taken anywhere: it is a thirst that only water and a hunger for an exact person, but the person is cheating themselves, inappropriate, there is no way bathe twice in it, as the river of Heraclitus ...
... I call upon all the living forces of the country, young people who have fresh in our capacity for indignation, the true democratic spirit, which sucks spontaneous feel how it is conceived in past; I appeal to everyone, so that together we go to hell ...
... It is useless, therefore, describe the Devil, since, except the horns, which are the common denominator in all other respects each person brings their own Diablo in the pupil ...
... Life is a nightgown that others force us to adjust, always expect something from us that we keep true to ourselves, that we keep our word, we give the promise, and if we depart the runway, immediately rise outraged portrait of what we were to say with confidence: "I never believed you," or saying tearfully: "I've failed," and you have to back down, becoming the statue that others appreciate, resume their paper and run for the umpteenth time the crippled self-representation with parliaments tested ...
... They are six-thirty in the afternoon and no change of subject, I repeat: I am physical, spiritual, biological, sociological, philosophical, economic, psychological, chemical and mathematical sick of my life and, according to my calculations, you also Dear Reader otherwise would not be reading this book to distract ...
... If any reader has the privilege of selecting its writers, it's just that once an author to exercise the right to decide who will be their partners. I believe that the publication of a text is not reason enough for anybody else creates the power to stick their noses where they do not call, and as I will not return cryptic to remove someone from this page, I demand to happy to go away ...
An adventure quickly dissolves easily in acid dreary day: a quiet pivot returns us to the bed of hours domesticated ...
necessary to advance the steps are not registered in any circle, not even in the spiral of pleasure every now and then revived, and is screwed "customary love" ...
... love is not proof
intruders ... ... Sign the forces that conspire to make us lose the balance no more powerful than the magnet of the flesh ... not
... are sublime love the little hands, but the double claws which corresponded wish us away, the lord of the will, the cry now or never, we jump on the other ...
... I prefer to be expelled forever League of the writers 'realists' to suffer, as I write, these atmospheres of squalor mandatory, these characters bland and suburban who crowd the pages and the pupils of misery, "the true reality lies elsewhere."
Fragmantos taken from my book Assault to hell.
