To live a life which is a perpetual falsehood is to suffer unknown tortures.
The ox suffers, the cart complains.
If the infinite had no me, then me would be its limit. It would not be the infinite, therefore it would not be.
Often when we think we are knotting one thread, we are tying quite another.
Between the government which does evil and the people who accept it - there is a certain shameful solidarity.
Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions