I Did Not Volunteer For The Waffen

I Wept When The Muse Ulla Bent Over Me. Blinded By Tears I Could Not Prevent Her From Kissing Me, I Could Not Prevent The Muse From Giving Me That Terrible Kiss. All Of You Who Have Ever Been Kissed By The Muse Will Surely Understand That Oskar, Once Branded By That Kiss, Was Condemned To Take Back The Drum He Had Rejected Years Before, The Drum He Had Buried In The Sand Of Sapse Cemetery.

People Have Always Told Tales. Long Before Humanity Learned To Write And Gradually Became Literate, Everybody Told Tales To Everybody Else And Everybody Listened To Everybody Else's Tales. Before Long It Became Clear That Some Of The Still Illiterate Storytellers Told More And Better Tales Than Others, That Is, They Could Make More People Believe Their Lies.

If Work And Leisure Are Soon To Be Subordinated To This One Utopian Principle - Absolute Busyness - Then Utopia And Melancholy Will Come To Coincide: An Age Without Conflict Will Dawn, Perpetually Busy - And Without Consciousness.

I Am Not Faithful But I Am Attached.

Today I Know That All Things Are Watching, That Nothing Goes Unseen, That Even Wallpaper Has A Better Memory Than Human Beings.