We Are Imprisoned In The Realm Of

The Horrors Of War, Pale Beside The Loss Of A Mother

How Can One Know Anything At All About People?

Why Do We Go Around Acting As Though Everything Was Friendship And Reliability When Basically Everything Everywhere Is Full Of Sudden Hate And Ugliness?

We Are Aware Only Of The Empty Space In The Forest, Which Only Yesterday Was Filled With Trees.

A First Visit To A Madhouse Is Always A Shock.