samedi 31 juillet 2010
Sherwood Anderson, WINESBURG, OHIO, New York, The Modern Library, 2002 
The old writer, like all of the people in the world, had got, during his long life, a great many notions in his head. He had once been quite handsome and a number of women had benn in love with him. And then, of course, he had known people, many people, known them in a peculiarly intimate way that was different from the way you and I know people. At least that is what the writer thought and the thought pleased him. Why quarrel with an old man concerning his thoughts?