I foresee the day when we shall read nothing but telegrams and prayers.
Under each formula lies a corpse.
The universal view melts things into a blur.
Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.
We dread the future only when we are not sure we can kill ourselves when we want to.
To claim you are more detached, more alien to everything than anyone, and to be merely a fanatic of indifference!