We Didn't Know Each Other Well. I

The Only Writers Who Have Any Peace Are The Ones Who Don't Write. And There Are Some Like That. They Wallow In A Sea Of Possibilities. To Express A Thought, You First Have To Limit It, And That Means Kill It. Every Word I Speak Robs Me Of A Thousand Others, And Every Line I Write Means Giving Up Another.

Cannibals Prefer Those Who Have No Spines.

For What Are Myths If Not The Imposing Of Order On Phenomena That Do Not Possess Order In Themselves? And All Myths, However They Differ From Philosophical Systems And Scientific Theories, Share This With Them, That They Negate The Principle Of Randomness In The World.

You Believe By Doubting And You Doubt By Believing; Yet This State Too Is Not The Final One.

How Do You Expect To Communicate With The Ocean, When You Can’t Even Understand One Another?