Borders are scratched across the hearts of men By strangers with a calm, judicial pen, And when the borders bleed we watch with dread The lines of ink across the map turn red.

There is nothing harder to come by than detachment and solitude; and nothing more important.

The right to choose death when life no longer holds meaning is not only the next liberation but the last human right.

performance is an act of faith.

The more people are reached by mass communication, the less they communicate with each other.

Human progress had so often been checked by those who were afraid of losing what they had.

In an age where the lowered eyelid is just a sign of fatigue, the delicate game of love is pining away. Freud and flirtation are poor companions.