“We cry for ourselves, don't we? Not for the dead. The dead are past caring.”
“Still shaking, in the pew, I understood that it isn't the dead we cry for. We cry for ourselves, and I didn't deserve my own pity.”
“Paris is a place in which we can forget ourselves, reinvent, expunge the dead weight of our past.”
“We are not dead but asleep, dreaming of ourselves.”
“The dead are the past and we cannot escape the past. Without the past there will be no future.”
“We live entirely in the past, nourished by dead thoughts, dead creeds, dead sciences. And it is the past which is engulfing us, not the future. The future always has and always will belong to—the poet.”