Let us not be needlessly bitter: certain failures are sometimes fruitful.
In most cases we attach ourselves to in order to take revenge on life, to punish it, to signify we can do without it, that we have found something better, and we also attach ourselves to God in horror of men.
An existence transfigured by failure.
The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.
By all evidence we are in the world to do nothing.
Whenever I happen to be in a city of any size, I marvel that riots do not break out everyday: Massacres, unspeakable carnage, a doomsday chaos. How can so many human beings coexist in a space so confined without hating each other to death?