Love Is Nothing But Lust Misspelled.

The Love Of Violence Is An Aspect Of Our Humanity. Even The Weak Wish To Be Strong Primarily So They Can Wield The Whip.

Human Beings Have Only That Confusing Mass Of Chemically Driven Neurological Storage To Rely On. They're All Subjective And Emotion-tinged. How Can They Trust Any Of Their Memories?

The Whole Planet Reeks Of Mysticism Without Revelation.

Most Of Us Do Know We Have No Immortality. And When You've Found A Genius, Someone Who Has Already Purchased His Immortality In Musical Or Literary Terms, It's Maddening.

Books ... Were Merely Nodes In A Near-infinite Matrix Of Information That Exists In Four Dimensions, Evolving Toward The Idea Of The Concept Of The Approximation Of The Shadow Of Truth Vertically Through Time As Well As Longitudinally Through Knowledge.