Be Young Forever, Seasons Of

Poetry Is News Brought To The Mountains By A Unicorn And An Echo.

It Isn't Pleasant To Surrender To The Hegemony Of A Nation Which Is Still Wild And Primitive, And To Concede The Absolute Superiority Of Its Customs And Institutions, Science And Technology, Literature And Art. Must One Sacrifice So Much In The Name Of The Unity Of Mankind?

A True Opium Of The People Is A Belief In Nothingness After Death.

We Have Become Indifferent To Content, And React, Not Even To Form, But To Technique, To Technical Efficiency Itself.

From Life, From The Apple Cut By The Flaming Knife, What Grain Will Be Saved? My Son, Believe Me, Nothing Remains, Only Adult Toil, The Furrow Of Fate In The Palm. Only Toil, Nothing More.