If We Understood The Enigmas Of Life

All That Remains Is A Fate Whose Outcome Alone Is Fatal. Outside Of That Single Fatality Of Death, Everything, Joy Or Happiness, Is Liberty. A World Remains Of Which Man Is The Sole Master. What Bound Him Was The Illusion Of Another World.

Where There Is No Hope, It Is Incumbent On Us To Invent It.

We Have Art In Order Not To Die Of Life.

At Any Street Corner The Feeling Of Absurdity Can Strike Any Man In The Face.

The Work Of Art Is Born Of The Intelligence's Refusal To Reason The Concrete. It Marks The Triumph Of The Carnal.