The minute you begin to have doubts, the floor under your feet starts to shake.

Yet there seemed to be some truth in the law of probability, according to which the chance of success is directly proportionate to the number of repetitions.

Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.

Far happier he, who, young and full of pride And radiant with the glory of the sun, Leaves earth before his singing time is done. All wounds of Time the graveyard flowers hide, His beauty lives, as fresh as when he died.

Now that you are dead, you are splendid. Photographs of people who have just died are worth twenty percent more, and for suicides there is an additional five percent. Now that you are dead you are much in demand.

Defeat begins with the fear that one has lost.

Do you shovel to survive, or survive to shovel?