The past is the luxury of proprietors.
Evil is the product of the ability of humans to make abstract that which is concrete.
My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.
Little flashes of sun on the surface of a cold, dark sea.
I discovered suddenly that alienation, exploitation of man by man, under-nourishment, relegated to the background metaphysical evil which is a luxury.
Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.