A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death - the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders we are not going to be judged.

Our memory is childish and it saves only what we need.

It is impossible to communicate to people who have not experienced it the undefinable menace of total rationalism.

You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.

We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.

Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?

On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.