But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!

But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying. I shall go on doing as I have always done, not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, nor where I am, nor if I am.

What goes by the name of love is banishment, with now and then a postcard from the homeland, such is my considered opinion, this evening.

I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.

I did not want to write, but I had to resign myself to it in the end.

Enough to know no knowing.

The human eyelid is not teartight (happily for the human eye).