Even When One Sits In The Prisoner's

At One Time Or Another All Normal People Have Wished Their Loved Ones Were Dead.

Sometimes, Carrying On, Just Carrying On, Is The Superhuman Achievement.

We Come Into The World Laden With The Weight Of An Infinite Necessity.

The Words That Reverberate For Us At The Confines Of This Long Adventure Of Rebellion Are Not Formulas For Optimism, For Which We Have No Possible Use In The Extremities Of Our Unhappiness, But Words Of Courage And Intelligence Which, On The Shores Of The Eternal Seas, Even Have The Qualities Of Virtue.

Ah! My Friend, For Whomever Is Alone, Without A God And Without A Master, The Weight Of Time Is Terrible. One Must Then Choose A Master, God Being Out Of Style.