True, It Is Evil That A Single

When The Body Sinks Into Death, The Essence Of Man Is Revealed. Man Is A Knot, A Web, A Mesh Into Which Relationships Are Tied. Only Those Relationships Matter. The Body Is An Old Crock That Nobody Will Miss. I Have Never Known A Man To Think Of Himself When Dying. Never.

He Who Has Gone, So We But Cherish His Memory, Abides With Us, More Potent, Nay, More Present Than The Living Man.

To Be A Man Is To Feel That One's Own Stone Contributes To Building The Edifice Of The World.

A Civilization Is A Heritage Of Beliefs, Customs, And Knowledge Slowly Accumulated In The Course Of Centuries, Elements Difficult At Times To Justify By Logic, But Justifying Themselves As Paths When They Lead Somewhere, Since They Open Up For Man His Inner Distance.

You're Not A Man, You're A Mushroom!