What Does It Matter, All Is Grace.

Justice In The Hands Of The Powerful Is Merely A Governing System Like Any Other. Why Call It Justice? Let Us Rather Call It Injustice, But Of A Sly Effective Order, Based Entirely On Cruel Knowledge Of The Resistance Of The Weak, Their Capacity For Pain, Humilation And Misery. Injustice Sustained At The Exact Degree Of Necessary Tension To Turn The Cogs Of The Huge Machine-for-the-making-of-rich-men, Without Bursting The Boiler.

To Be Able To Share In Another's Joy, That Is The Secret Of Happiness.

When Writing Of Oneself One Should Show No Mercy. Yet Why At The First Attempt To Discover One's Own Truth Does All Inner Strength Seem To Melt Away In Floods Of Self-pity And Tenderness And Rising Tears?

When You Think Of The Huge Uninterrupted Success Of A Book Like Don Quixote, You're Bound To Realize That If Humankind Have Not Yet Finished Being Revenged, By Sheer Laughter, For Being Let Down In Their Greatest Hope, It Is Because That Hope Was Cherished So Long And Lay So Deep!

Truth Is Meant To Save You First, And The Comfort Comes Afterwards.