There are some wounds that one can heal only by deepening them and making them worse.

I have come with this message: since our gods and our aspirations are no longer anything but scientific, why shouldn't our loves be so too?

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?

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

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

There are some wounds that one can heal only by deepening them and making them worse.

My own self-consciousness cries out to me coldly: how does one love zero?