Pursued By Our Origins... We

How Easy It Is To Be "deep": All You Have To Do Is Let Yourself Sink Into Your Own Flaws.

What Every Man Who Loves His Country Hopes For In His Inmost Heart: The Suppression Of Half His Compatriots.

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.

Afflicted With Existence, Each Man Endures Like An Animal The Consequences Which Proceed From It. Thus, In A World Where Everything Is Detestable, Hatred Becomes Huger Than The World And, Having Transcended Its Object, Cancels Itself Out.

Discretion Is Deadly To Genius; Ruinous To Talent.