The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.
We have not made the Revolution, the Revolution has made us.
That is a long word: forever!
Dying people often become childish.
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
Revolution calls my name. I will soon dwell in nothingness, and my name will be in the Pantheon of history.