After having exhausted all the arguments on behalf of evil, one utters the creed's dictums with nostalgia rather than with fervor.
I'm not trying to be ridiculous or funny, but it was rather pleasant to find yourself in isolation, in solitary.
The real history of consciousness starts with one's first lie.
Creativity is an unending exercise in uncertainty.
An object, after all, is what makes infinity private.
What's happening in Russia is devoid of autobiographical interest for me. Maybe it's egocentric. Whatever it is, feel free to use it.