Being Is An Issue For One.

Everyone Is The Other, And No One Is Himself. The They, Which Supplies The Answer To The Who Of Everyday Da-sein, Is The Nobody To Whom Every Da-sein Has Always Already Surrendered Itself, In Its Being-among-one-another.

The Song Still Remains Which Names The Land Over Which It Sings.

Profound Boredom, Drifting Here And There In The Abysses Of Our Existence Like A Muffling Fog, Removes All Things And Men And Oneself Along With It Into A Remarkable Indifference. This Boredom Reveals Being As A Whole.

Thinking Begins Only When We Have Come To Know That Reason, Glorified For Centuries, Is The Stiff-necked Adversary Of Thought.

Language Is The House Of The Truth Of Being.