Man has survived hitherto because he was too ignorant to know how to realise his wishes- Now that he can realise them, he must either change them or perish

The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.

No wreaths please - especially no hothouse flowers. Some common memento is better, something he prized and is known by: his old clothes - a few books perhaps.

Death will be too late to bring us aid.

The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The Moon, the dried weeds and the Pleiades - Seven feet tall the dark, dried weed stalks make a part of the night a red lace on the milky blue sky

What can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past.