To An Old Man Any Place That's

Silence Is Terrible And Painful Only To Those Who Have Said All And Have Nothing More To Speak Of; But To Those Who Never Had Anything To Say— To Them Silence Is Simple And Easy.

Our Most Merciless Enemy Is Our Past.

There's A Little Book I'm Thinking Of Writing - "swan Song" Is What I Shall Call It. The Song Of The Dying. And My Book Will Be Incense Burnt At The Deathbed Of This Society, Damned With The Damnation Of Its Own Impotence.

We Kill Everybody, My Dear. Some With Bullets, Some With Words, And Everybody With Our Deeds. We Drive People Into Their Graves, And Neither See It Nor Feel It.

Truth Doesn't Always Heal A Wounded Soul.