We are all hunting for rational reasons for believing in the absurd.
You see, nothing matters except pleasure - which is the opposite of happiness, its tragic part, I expect.
The heaviest impact of the work of art is in the guts. Art does not reason. It manhandles you and changes you.
Comedians are the nearest to suicide.
It only takes one match to ignite a haystack, or one remark to fire a mind.
Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?