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From the ceaseless turning of pages, a bird’s-eye mirage of a city. There, as if in some great ampitheater, we tried shyly and plaintively, through the whispering of wilting gardens, to keep intact for as long as possible.

"it was impossible not to remember that which on ordinary days one tended to overlook." (78-9)

“We are not,” he said, “long term beings. not heroes of romances in many volumes. for one gesture, for one word alone, we shall make the effort. We openly admit: our creations will be temporary. We shall have this as our aim: a gesture." (51-51)

"But we don't want to end this book with death, dedicated as it is to life, invincible life, life always triumphing over humiliation and tears, over misery and death."

Already, I can see that this one will haunt me.

so far: exhilirating.

I believe in you enormously--I was genuinely stirred--also exasperated.

Don't offend the illusion by writing forced letters.

I'm so thoroughly awake again, sizzling and fermenting.

Whenever you ask me, "do I remember," remember that I remember everything.