I Don't Think In Any

Some People—and I Am One Of Them—hate Happy Ends. We Feel Cheated. Harm Is The Norm. Doom Should Not Jam. The Avalanche Stopping In Its Tracks A Few Feet Above The Cowering Village Behaves Not Only Unnaturally But Unethically.

There Is Only One Real Number: One. And Love, Apparently, Is The Best Exponent Of This Singularity.

Words Without Experience Are Meaningless.

And Yet I Adore Him. I Think He's Quite Crazy, And With No Place Or Occupation In Life, And Far From Happy, And Philosophically Irresponsible – And There Is Absolutely Nobody Like Him.

Style And Structure Are The Essence Of A Book; Great Ideas Are Hogwash.