Blessed Be The Night, Which

Perfect Moments, Especially When They Verge On The Sublime Have The Grave Disadvantage Of Being Very Short Lived, Which In Fact, Being Obvious, We Would Not Need To Mention Were It Not That They Have A Still Greater Disadvantage, Which Is That We Do Not Know What To Do Once They Are Over.

Anyone Who Gets Up Early By Inclination Or Has Been Forced To Rise Early Out Of Necessity Finds It Intolerable That Others Should Go On Sleeping Soundly

Every Novel Is Like This, Desperation, A Frustrated Attempt To Save Something Of The Past. Except That It Still Has Not Been Established Whether It Is The Novel That Prevents Man From Forgetting Himself Or The Impossibility Of Forgetfulness That Makes Him Write Novels.

Not Only Does The Universe Have Its Own Laws, All Of Them Indifferent To The Contradictory Dreams And Desires Of Humanity, And In The Formulation Of Which We Contribute Not One Iota, Apart, That Is, From The Words By Which We Clumsily Name Them, But Everything Seems To Indicate That It Uses These Laws For Aims And Objectives That Transcend And Always Will Transcend Our Understanding.

God, The Devil, Good, Evil, It's All In Our Heads, Not In Heaven Or Hell, Which We Also Invented. We Do Not Realize That, Having Invented God, We Immediately Became His Slaves.