Wise Is He Who Enjoys

I Never Was But An Isolated Bon Vivant, Which Is Absurd; Or A Mystic Bon Vivant, Which Is An Impossible Thing.

Pg 9, "the Consciousness Of Life's Unconsciousness Is The Oldest Tax Levied On The Intelligence.

To Live Strikes Me As A Metaphysical Mistake Of Matter, A Dereliction Of Inaction.

Life Is Whatever We Conceive It To Be.

I’m Losing My Taste For Everything, Including Even My Taste For Finding Everything Tasteless.