Solitude Would Be Ideal If You Could

Sentimental Irony Is A Dog That Bays At The Moon While Pissing On Graves.

In Berlin, Things Are Serious But Not Hopeless. In Vienna, They Are Hopeless But Not Serious.

I Knew A Man Who Carried His Education In His Vest Pocket Because There Was More Room There Than In His Head.

War: First, One Hopes To Win; Then One Expects The Enemy To Lose; Then, One Is Satisfied That He Too Is Suffering; In The End, One Is Surprised That Everyone Has Lost.

Progress, Under Whose Feet The Grass Mourns And The Forest Turns Into Paper From Which Newspaper Plants Grow, Has Subordinated The Purpose Of Life To The Means Of Subsistence And Turned Us Into The Nuts And Bolts For Our Tools.