It's Not A Certain Society That Seems

The Universe Seems To Me Infinitely Strange And Foreign. At Such A Moment I Gaze Upon It With A Mixture Of Anguish And Euphoria; Separate From The Universe, As Though Placed At A Certain Distance Outside It; I Look And I See Pictures, Creatures That Move In A Kind Of Timeless Time And Spaceless Space, Emitting Sounds That Are A Kind Of Language I No Longer Understand Or Ever Register.

Mediocrity Is More Dangerous In A Critic Than In A Writer.

Boredom Flourishes Too, When You Feel Safe. It's A Symptom Of Security.

Logic Is A Very Beautiful Thing. As Long As It Is Not Abused.

Only The Ephemeral Is Of Lasting Value.