Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four Hills and a cloud.
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.
As life grows more terrible, its literature grows more terrible.
All of our ideas come from the natural world: trees equal umbrellas.
Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.