Existing Is Plagiarism.

Ennui Is The Echo In Us Of Time Tearing Itself Apart.

Knowledge, Having Irritated And Stimulated Our Appetite For Power, Will Lead Us Inexorably To Our Ruin.

Anyone Can Escape Into Sleep, We Are All Geniuses When We Dream, The Butcher's The Poet's Equal There.

Even When Nothing Happens, Everything Seems Too Much For Me. What Can Be Said, Then, In The Presence Of An Event, Any Event?

The More One Has Suffered, The Less One Demands. To Protest Is A Sign One Has Traversed No Hell.