If It’s Going To Be A World

I Seldom Try To Probe The Mystery Of My Sloth. I Have Squandered A Gigantic Fortune Of Work Hours... Seems Likely That I'll Go On Squandering Till The Very End.

The More I Think About Myself, The More I'm Persuaded That, As A Person, I Really Don't Exist. That Is One Of The Reasons Why I Can't Believe In Any Orthodox Religion: I Cannot Believe In My Own Soul. No, I Am A Chemical Compound, Conditioned By Environment And Education. My "character" Is Simply A Repertoire Of Acquired Tricks, My Conversation A Repertoire Of Adaptations And Echoes, My "feelings" Are Dictated By Purely Physical, External Stimuli.

What Irritates Me Is The Bland Way People Go Around Saying, 'oh, Our Attitude Has Changed. We Don't Dislike These People Any More.' But By The Strangest Coincidence, They Haven't Taken Away The Injustice; The Laws Are Still On The Books.

I Certainly Should Have,' He Agrees, Smiling And Thinking What An Absurd And Universally-accepted Bit Of Nonsense It Is, That Your Best Friends Must Necessarily Be The Ones Who Best Understand You. As If There Weren't Far Too Much Understanding In The World Already; Above All, That Understanding Between Lovers, Celebrated In Song And Story, Which Is Actually Such Torture That No Two Of Them Can Bear It Without Frequent Separations Or Fights.

Waking Up Begins With Saying Am And Now. That Which Has Awoken Then Lies For A While Staring Up At The Ceiling And Down Into Itself Until It Has Recognized I, And Therefrom Deduced I Am, I Am Now. Here Comes Next, And Is At Least Negatively Reassuring; Because Here, This Morning, Is Where It Has Expected To Find Itself: What’s Called At Home.