I Dream Of A Language

The Universal View Melts Things Into A Blur.

God: A Disease We Imagine We Are Cured Of Because No One Dies Of It Nowadays.

We Change Ideas Like Neckties.

The Fear Of Your Own Solitude, Of Its Vast Surface And Its Infinity… Remorse Is The Voice Of Solitude. And What Does This Whispering Voice Say? Everything In Us That Is Not Human Anymore.

Tolerance - The Function Of An Extinguished Ardor - Tolerance Cannot Seduce The Young.