He who has rejected his demons badgers us to death with his angels
Nothing is the speed limit of thought.
He who hides his madman, dies voiceless.
The Sorbonne should be razed and Chris Marker put in its place.
A man who knows neither how to travel nor how to keep a journal has put together this travel journal. But at the moment of signing he is suddenly afraid. So he casts the first stone. Here.
I do not know how to make poems