Our First Intuitions Are The

A Decadent Civilization Compromises With Its Disease, Cherishes The Virus Infecting It, Loses Its Self-respect.

To Have Committed Every Crime But That Of Being A Father.

I Would Like To Explode, Flow, Crumble Into Dust, And My Disintegration Would Be My Masterpiece.

Ideas Should Be Neutral. But Man Animates Them With His Passions And Folly. Impure And Turned Into Beliefs, They Take On The Appearance Of Reality. The Passage From Logic Is Consummated. Thus Are Born Ideologies, Doctrines, And Bloody Farce.

There Is Not Much Difference Between A Mortal Man And A Dying Man. The Absurdity Of Making Plans Is Only Slightly More Obvious In The Second Case.