Dead voices, lost sounds, forgotten noises, vibrations lockstepping into the abyss and now too distant ever to be recaptured!...What sort of arrows would be able to transfix such birds?

Thoughts and feelings change sometimes, as one crosses the frontiers.

I am a man who knows nothing, guesses sometimes, finds frequently and who's always amazed.

Brunettes are full of electricity.

Every human occupation has it repertoire of stock phrases, within which every man twists and turn until his death. His vocabulary, which seems so lavish, reduces itself to a hundred routine formulas at most, which he repeats over and over.

Dead voices, lost sounds, forgotten noises, vibrations lockstepping into the abyss and now too distant ever to be recaptured!...What sort of arrows would be able to transfix such birds?

Uncertainty is a quality to be cherished, therefore – if not for it, who would dare to undertake anything?