If I were able to live my life anew, in the next
I would try to commit more errors.
I would not try to be so perfect,
I would relax more.
I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would be more foolish than I’ve been,
I would run more risks, take more vacations, contemplate more sunsets, climb more mountains, swim more rivers.
I was one of those people that lived sensibly and prolifically each minute of his life. Of course I had moments of happiness. If I could go back I would try to have only good moments. Because if you didn’t know what life was made of: only of moments. If I could live again, I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring
and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends. And I would play with more children, if I had another life ahead of me. But already you see, I am 85, and I know that I am dying. Of unknown source, though often attributed to Jorge Luis Borges, born 1899 in Buenos Aires, died in 1986 in Geneva