Manuscripts Do Not Burn.

Allow Me To Inquire How Man Can Control His Own Affairs When He Is Not Only Incapable Of Compiling A Plan For Some Laughably Short Term Such As, Say, A Thousand Years, But Cannot Even Predict What Will Happen To Him Tomorrow?

Why Try To Pursue What Is Completed?

The Tongue Can Conceal The Truth, But The Eyes Never! You're Asked An Unexpected Question, You Don't Even Flinch, It Takes Just A Second To Get Yourself Under Control, You Know Just What You Have To Say To Hide The Truth, And You Speak Very Convincingly, And Nothing In Your Face Twitches To Give You Away. But The Truth, Alas, Has Been Disturbed By The Question, And It Rises Up From The Depths Of Your Soul To Flicker In Your Eyes And All Is Lost.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Lady. She Had No Children, And No Happiness Either. And At First She Cried For A Long Time, But Then She Became Wicked.

You Pronounced Your Words As If You Don’t Acknowledge The Shadows, Or The Evil Either. Would You Be So Kind As To Give A Little Thought To The Question Of What Your Good Would Be Doing If Evil Did Not Exist, And How The Earth Would Look If The Shadows Were To Disappear From It?