The mob is man voluntarily descending to the nature of the beast.
The question is whether [suicide] is the way out, or the way in.
The riddle of the age has for each a private solution.
I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
Wisdom is infused into every form.
The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilization.