One Is Very Crazy When

The Price Of Civilization Is Instinctual Renunciation.

When We Share - That Is Poetry In The Prose Of Life.

The Paranoid Is Never Entirely Mistaken.

It Often Seems That The Poet's Derisive Comment Is Not Unjustified When He Says Of The Philosopher: “with His Nightcaps And The Tatters Of His Dressing-gown He Patches The Gaps In The Structure Of The Universe.

Illusions Commend Themselves To Us Because They Save Us Pain And Allow Us To Enjoy Pleasure Instead.