In My Head There Are

Our Vulgar Perception Is Not Concerned With Other Than Vulgar Phenomena.

Life Is Habit. Or Rather Life Is A Succession Of Habits.

Yes, There Is No Denying It, Any Longer, It Is Not You Who Are Dead, But All The Others. So You Get Up And Go To Your Mother, Who Thinks She Is Alive. That's My Impression. But Now I Shall Have To Get Myself Out Of This Ditch. How Joyfully I Would Vanish Here, Sinking Deeper And Deeper Under The Rains.

We Lose Our Hair, Our Teeth! Our Bloom, Our Ideals.

In The Landscape Of Extinction, Precision Is Next To Godliness.