There Are No Answers, Only Choices.

I Felt Myself Being Invaded Through And Through, I Crumbled, Disintegrated, And Only Emptiness Remained.

Each Civilization May Choose One Of Two Roads To Travel, That Is, Either Fret Itself To Death, Or Pet Itself To Death. And In The Course Of Doing One Or The Other, It Eats Its Way Into The Universe, Turning Cinders And Flinders Of Stars Into Toilet Seats, Pegs, Gears, Cigarette Holders And Pillowcases, And It Does This Because, Unable To Fathom The Universe, It Seeks To Change That Fathomlessness Into Something Fathomable.

Of The Two Powers, The Two Categories That Take Possession Of Us When We Enter The World (from Where?), Space Is By Far The Less Mysterious. It, Too, Undergoes Transformations. Time, On The Other Hand, Is A Hostile Element, Truly Treacherous, I Would Even Say Against Human Nature.

Good Books Tell The Truth, Even When They're About Things That Never Have Been And Never Will Be. They're Truthful In A Different Way

A Man Who For An Entire Week Does Nothing But Hit Himself Over The Head Has Little Reason To Be Proud.