Sheets of paper covered with words pile up in archives sadder that cemeteries, because no one ever visits them, not even on All Souls' Day. Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity. That's why one banned book in your former country means infinitely more than the billions of words spewed out by our universities. No matter how brutal life becomes, peace always reigns in the cemetery. There are things that can be accomplished only by violence.
Physical love is unthinkable without violence.
A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about. The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us. The cemetery was vanity transmogrified into stone. Indeed, the only truly serious questions are ones that even a child can formulate.