And When Man Faces Destiny, Destiny Ends

Seldom Is A Gothic Head More Beautiful Than When Broken.

The Great Mystery Is Not That We Should Have Been Thrown Down Here At Random Between The Profusion Of Matter And That Of The Stars; It Is That From Our Very Prison We Should Draw, From Our Own Selves, Images Powerful Enough To Deny Our Own Nothingness.

Man Knows That The World Is Not Made On A Human Scale; And He Wishes That It Were.

Youth Is A Religion From Which One Always Ends Up Being Converted.

If Man Is Not Ready To Risk His Life, Where Is His Dignity?