Blind Yourself, For I Am

Woe To Him Who Doesn't Know How To Wear His Mask, Be He King Or Pope!

Whatever Is A Reality Today, Whatever You Touch And Believe In And That Seems Real For You Today, Is Going To Be - Like The Reality Of Yesterday - An Illusion Tomorrow.

The Man, The Writer, The Instrument Of The Creation Will Die, But His Creation Does Not Die.

Inevitably We Construct Ourselves. Let Me Explain. I Enter This House And Immediately I Become What I Have To Become, What I Can Become: I Construct Myself. That Is, I Present Myself To You In A Form Suitable To The Relationship I Wish To Achieve With You. And, Of Course, You Do The Same With Me.

Buffoons, Buffoons! One Can Play Any Tune On Them!