I am a clown...and I collect moments.

If Continental tea is like a faded yellow telegraph form, in these islands to the west of Ostend it has the dark, glimmering tones of Russian icons, before the milk gives it a color similar to the complexion of an overfed baby; on the Continent weak tea is served in fragile porcelain, here it is casually poured into thick earthenware cups from battered metal teapots, a heavenly brew to restore the traveler, dirt cheap too.

I cattolici mi rendono nervoso perché sono sleali. E i protestanti? domandò ridendo, quelli mi fanno star male con quel loro pasticciare intorno alla coscienza. E gli atei? rideva ancora. Quelli mi annoiano perché parlano sempre di Dio. E lei che cos'è, in conclusione? Io sono un clown.

You don't have to stay anywhere forever.

I doubt if he ever confronted and acknowledged his own deeper motivations, except when they were as pure as spring water.

What is life? - A novel. Who is the author? - Anonymous. We read haltingly, laugh, weep... and sleep.

Что наша жизнь? - роман. Кто автор? - аноним. Читаем по складам, смеемся, плачем... спим.