The Woman From The Depths

All Lovers In The World Are Alike: They Fall In Love By Chance; They See Each Other, And Are Attached To Each Other By The Features Of Their Faces; They Illuminate Each Other By The Fierce Preference Which Is Akin To Madness; They Assert The Reality Of Illusions; And For A Moment They Change Falsehood Into Truth.

Whatever Our Ignorance Left To Itself, And Whatever The Wounds That Other Human Beings Are, We Ought To Study Ourselves With A Sort Of Devotion.

Two Armies At Death-grips — That Is One Great Army Committing Suicide.

We Are All, Always, The Desire Not To Die. This Desire Is As Immeasurable And Varied As Life's Complexity, But At Bottom This Is What It Is: To Continue To Be, To Be More And More, To Develop And To Endure. All The Force We Have, All Our Energy And Clearness Of Mind Serve To Intensify Themselves In One Way Or Another. We Intensify Ourselves With New Impressions, New Sensations, New Ideas. We Endeavour To Take What We Do Not Have And To Add It To Ourselves. Humanity Is The Desire For Novelty Founded Upon The Fear Of Death. That Is What It Is.

People Are Machines Of Forgetfulness