Whom The Gods Wish To Destroy They

The Artist Secretes Nostalgia Around Life.

Only By Avoiding The Beginning Of Things Can We Escape Their End.

When I Contemplate The Accumulation Of Guilt And Remorse Which, Like A Garbage-can, I Carry Through Life, And Which Is Fed Not Only By The Lightest Action But By The Most Harmless Pleasure, I Feel Man To Be Of All Living Things The Most Biologically Incompetent And Ill-organized. Why Has He Acquired A Seventy Years Life-span Only To Poison It Incurably By The Mere Being Of Himself? Why Has He Thrown Conscience, Like A Dead Rat, To Putrefy In The Well?

Civilization Is Maintained By A Very Few People In A Small Number Of Places And We Need Only Some Bombs And A Few Prisons To Blot It Out Altogether.

Beneath A Mask Of Selfish Tranquility Nothing Exists Except Bitterness And Boredom.