Is Not This World An Illusion? And

I Had The Brief Notion That His Heart, Pressed Flat As A Flower, Crimson And Thin As Tissue Paper, Lay In This File. It Was A Very Thin One.

How Far Does A Pretence Of Feeling, Maintained With Absolute Conviction, Become Authentic?

Reciprocity Of Sensation Is Not Possible Because To Share Is To Be Robbed.

What Would The Daughters Of The Rich Do With Themselves If The Poor Ceased To Exist?

I Desire Therefore I Exist.