Glory - Once Achieved, What Is It

Society Is Not A Disease, It Is A Disaster. What A Stupid Miracle That One Can Live In It.

The Only Free Mind Is One That, Pure Of All Intimacy With Beings Or Objects, Plies Its Own Vacuity.

Where Are My Sensations? They Have Melted Into... Me, And What Is This Me, This Self, But The Sum Of These Evaporated Sensations?

When We Cannot Be Delivered From Ourselves, We Delight In Devouring Ourselves.

Life Is Possible Only By The Deficiencies Of Our Imagination And Memory.