A Book Is A Suicide

The Multiplication Of Our Kind Borders On The Obscene; The Duty To Love Them, On The Preposterous.

A Sensation Must Have Fallen Very Low To Deign To Turn Into An Idea.

As Art Sinks Into Paralysis, Artists Multiply. This Anomaly Ceases To Be One If We Realize That Art, On Its Way To Exhaustion, Has Become Both Impossible And Easy.

Democracy: A Festival Of Mediocrity.

Thinking Should Be Like Musical Meditation. Has Any Philosopher Pursued A Thought To Its Limits The Way Bach Or Beethoven Develop And Exhaust A Musical Theme? Even After Having Read The Most Profound Thinkers, One Still Feels The Need To Begin Anew. Only Music Gives Definitive Answers.