He Walked, Groping For A Sentence That

Worry Is A Waste Of Emotional Reserve".

To The Extent To Which A Man Is Rational, Life Is The Premise Directing His Actions. To The Extent To Which He Is Irrational, The Premise Directing His Actions Is Death.

Through The Dry Phases Of Calculations In Her Mind, She Noticed That She Did Have Time To Feel Something: It Was The Hard, Exhilarating Pleasure Of Action.

Through All The Darkness, Through All The Shame Of Which Men Are Capable, The Spirit Of Man Will Remain Alive On This Earth. It May Sleep, But It Will Awaken. It May Wear Chains, But It Will Break Through.

Joy Is The Goal Of Existence, And Joy Is Not To Be Stumbled Upon, But To Be Achieved, And The Act Of Treason Is To Let Its Vision Drown In The Swamp Of The Moment's Torture.