Superstition is believing that something means anything and that anything means something and that each thing means a particular thing and will mean a particular thing is coming. Oh yes it does.
Forensics is eloquence and reduction.
How I wish I were able to say what I think...
When I said. A rose is a rose is a rose. And then later made that into a ring I made poetry and what did I do I caressed completely caressed and addressed a noun.
If fishes were wishes the ocean would be all of our desire.
Repeating then is in every one, in every one their being and their feeling and their way of realising everything and every one comes out of them in repeating. More and more then every one comes to be clear to some one.
The times are so peculiar now, so mediaeval so unreasonable that for the first time in a hundred years truth is really stranger than fiction. Any truth.
Language as a real thing is not imitation either of sounds or colors or emotions it is an intellectual recreation and there is nopossible doubt about it and it is going to go on being that as long as humanity is anything.
A conversation in English in Finnish and in French can not be held at the same time nor with indifference ever or after a time.
Nobody knows what I am trying to do but I do and I know when I succeed.
I write for myself and strangers. The strangers, dear Readers, are an afterthought.
In a war everybody always knows all about Switzerland, in peace times it is just Switzerland but in war time it is the only country that everybody has confidence in, everybody.
Just as everybody has the vote including women, I think children should, because as a child is conscious of itself then it has to me an existence and has a stake in what happens.
There is a difference between twenty-nine and thirty. When you are twenty-nine it can be the beginning of everything. When you are thirty it can be the end of everything.
A vegetable garden in the beginning looks so promising and then after all little by little it grows nothing but vegetables, nothing, nothing but vegetables.
War is never fatal but always lost. Always lost.
There is no real reality to a really imagined life any more.
There isn’t any answer. There isn’t going to be any answer. There never has been an answer. That’s the answer.
It is natural to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes to that siren until she allures us to our death.
It is natural not to care about a sister certainly not when she is four years older and grinds her teeth at night.