Little Flashes Of Sun On The Surface

One Should Commit No Stupidity Twice, The Variety Of Choice Is, In The End, Large Enough.

Don't You Feel The Same Way? When I Cannot See Myself, Even Though I Touch Myself, I Wonder If I Really Exist.

Things Are Entirely What They Appear To Be And Behind Them... There Is Nothing.

The Form [of Literature] Matters Little To Me, Classical Or Not.

God Is Absence. God Is The Solitude Of Man.