Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning.

Every poem an epitaph.

/ T.S.Eliot /

miércoles, 4 de marzo de 2009

- William Faulkner - The Wild Palms -

Not could. Will. I want to. So it is the old meat after all, no matter how old. Because if memory exists outside of the flesh it wont be memory because it wont know what it remembers so when she became not then half of memory became not and if I become not then all of the remembering will cease to be. 'Yes', he thought, 'between grief and nothing, I will take grief'.

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