Transmitting one's flaws [through procreation] to someone else is a crime. I could never consent to give life to someone who would inherent my ailments.
A decadent civilization compromises with its disease, cherishes the virus infecting it, loses its self-respect.
The more we try to rest ourselves from our Egos, the deeper we sink into it.
Only superficial minds approach an idea with delicacy.
Intelligence flourishes only in the ages when belief withers.
The fear of your own solitude, of its vast surface and its infinity… Remorse is the voice of solitude. And what does this whispering voice say? Everything in us that is not human anymore.