As Soon As We Are Shown The

The Charm Of Knowledge Would Be Small Indeed, Were It Not That There Is So Much Shame To Be Overcome On The Way To It.

The Earth Has A Skin And That Skin Has Diseases; One Of Its Diseases Is Called Man.

When Death Brings At Last The Desired Forgetfulness, It Abolishes Life And Being Together, And Sets The Seal On The Knowledge That "being" Is Merely A Continual "has Been," A Thing That Lives By Denying And Destroying And Contradicting Itself.

The State Is The Coldest Of All Cold Monsters.

Out Of Damp And Gloomy Days, Out Of Solitude, Out Of Loveless Words Directed At Us, Conclusions Grow Up In Us Like Fungus: One Morning They Are There, We Know Not How, And They Gaze Upon Us, Morose And Gray. Woe To The Thinker Who Is Not The Gardener But Only The Soil Of The Plants That Grow In Him.