There were war, after each war, peace and after the peace, another war. Men are born every day and others die.
The Universe is somewhere else – always somewhere else, of course, but somewhere. And it’s nowwhere! There are only men, men forever divided.
That’s what I consider true generosity. You give your all, and yet you always feel as if it costs you nothing.
Insects were scurrying about in the shade cast by the grass, and the lawn was a huge monotonous forest of thousands of little green blades, all equal, all alike, hiding the world from each other. Anguished, she thought, “I don’t want to be just another blade of grass.”