When All Else Fails, Philosophize.

Was It Serious? I Don't Know. It Certainly Had Serious Consequences.

I Am Corrupted To The Bone With The Beauty Of This Forsaken World.

To Me, A Philosopher Who Says That The Distinction Between Human And Nonhuman Depends On Whether You Have A White Or A Black Skin, And A Philosopher Who Says That The Distinction Between Human And Nonhuman Depends On Whether Or Not You Know The Difference Between A Subject And A Predicate, Are More Alike Than They Are Unlike.

In Its Conception The Literature Prize Belongs To Days When A Writer Could Still Be Thought Of As, By Virtue Of His Or Her Occupation, A Sage, Someone With No Institutional Affiliations Who Could Offer An Authoritative Word On Our Times As Well As On Our Moral Life.

My Existence From Day To Day Has Become A Matter Of Averting My Eyes, Of Cringing. Death Is The Only Truth Left. Death Is What I Cannot Bear To Think. At Every Moment When I Am Thinking Of Something Else, I Am Not Thinking Death, Am Not Thinking The Truth.