NÃO HÁ AMOR COMO O PRIMEIRO (revisitando o cada vez mais extraordinário Look Homeward, Angel, de Thomas Wolfe)

«He was in agony because he was poverty-stricken in symbols: his mind was caught in a net because he had no words to work with. He had not even names for the objects around him: he probably defined them for himself by some jargon, reinforced by some mangling of the speech that roared about him, to which he listened intently day after day, realizing that his first escape must come through language. »