Daytime Sleep Is A Cursed Slumber From

All Art Is The Struggle To Be, In A Particular Sort Of Way, Virtuous.

... Half The World Starves. What A Planet. And The Eating, If You're Lucky Enough To Do Any. Stuffing Pieces Of Dead Animals Into A Hole In Your Face. Then Munch, Munch, Munch. If There's Anybody Watching, They Must Be Dying Of Laughter.

When Does One Ever Know A Human Being? Perhaps Only After One Has Realized The Impossibility Of Knowledge And Renounced The Desire For It And Finally Ceased To Feel Even The Need Of It. But Then What One Achieves Is No Longer Knowledge, It Is Simply A Kind Of Co-existence; And This Too Is One Of The Guises Of Love.

How Rarely Can Happiness Be Really Innocent And Not Triumphant, Not An Insult To The Deprived.

I Am Not Famous For Anything In Particular. I Am Just Famous.