No-one Was Ever Made Wretched

We Are All Serving A Life Sentence In The Dungeon Of The Self.

The Disasters Of The World Are Due To Its Inhabitants Not Being Able To Grow Old Simultaneously. There Is Always A Raw And Intolerant Nation Eager To Destroy The Tolerant And Mellow.

In My Religion, There Would Be No Exclusive Doctrine; All Would Be Love, Poetry, And Doubt.

Our Memories Are Card Indexes Consulted And Then Returned In Disorder By Authorities Whom We Do Not Control.

Classical And Romantic: Private Language Of A Family Quarrel, A Dead Dispute Over The Distribution Of Emphasis Between Man And Nature.