GUSTAV Flaubert 
I fuck up your mouth ... I would make her a paste with which embadurnaría the nineteenth century.
Is it live to see our past and drain water into the sea, this, like a cage, the future, like a shroud?
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You think because you work tirelessly, but that work is a proof of your weakness. Were condemned as to learn all those useless things at the price of your sweats; eras before and miserable slave before his death.
The man with his talent and his art is nothing but a miserable ape imitating something higher.
Can you say everything you have felt during a single day? Poor human weakness!, With your words, your language, your sounds, talking and babbling; define God, heaven and earth, chemistry and philosophy, and can not express your tongue, all the joy you because a naked woman ... or a cake!
Gustave Flaubert, Memoirs of a madman.
