The War Has Ruined Us For Everything.

We Have Our Dreams Because Without Them We Could Not Bear The Truth.

With Blinded Eyes I Stared At The Sky, This Grey, Endless Sky Of A Crazy God, Who Had Made Life And Death For His Amusement.

The Storm Lashes Us, Out Of The Confusion Of Grey And Yellow The Hail Of Splinters Whips Forth The Childlike Cries Of The Wounded, And In The Night Shattered Life Groans Painfully Into Silence. Our Hands Are Earth, Our Bodies Clay And Our Eyes Pools Of Rain. We Do Not Know Whether We Are Still Alive.

Modesty And Conscientiousness Receive Their Reward Only In Novels. In Life They Are Exploited And Then Shoved Aside.

Our Knowledge Of Life Is Limited To Death