Men Sometimes Die Much Earlier Than They

I See History As A Relay Race In Which One Of Us, Before Dropping In His Tracks, Must Carry One Stage Further The Challenge Of Being A Man.

Disease-carrying Thoughts Swarm And Multiply In The Dark And Twisted Labyrinths Of Our Minds, And All That Is Needed Is A Mob And A Good Political Slogan For The Epidemic To Be Spread Once Again, With A Burst Of Automatic Weapons Or A Mushroom Cloud.

I Sat Day After Day In My Little Room, Waiting For Inspiration To Visit Me, Trying To Invent A Pseudonym That Would Express, In A Combination Of Noble And Striking Sounds, Our Dream Of Artistic Achievement, A Pen Name Grand Enough To Compensate For My Own Feeling Of Insecurity And Helplessness At The Idea Of Everything My Mother Expected From Me.

If There Is Something That Opens Horizons, It Is Precisely Ignorance.

I Am Weak, I Say With No Presumptions. I Have No Merit, I Note It, That Is All. There Are Times That I Feel So Weak There Most Be A Mistake, And As I Don't Know What I Mean With This, I Am Not Going To Say Anything Else