It Is Better To Be Unhappy In

Whether We Are Describing A King, An Assassin, A Thief, An Honest Man, A Prostitute, A Nun, A Young Girl, Or A Stallholder In A Market, It Is Always Ourselves That We Are Describing.

Night Was A Very Different Matter. It Was Dense, Thicker Than The Very Walls, And It Was Empty, So Black, So Immense That Within It You Could Brush Against Appalling Things And Feel Roaming And Prowling Around A Strange, Mysterious Horror.

Breathing, Sleeping, Drinking, Eating, Working, Dreaming, Everything We Do Is Dying. To Live, In Fact, Is To Die.

In The East Men Know Panic, But They Do Not Know What Fright Is.

You Have The Army Of Mediocrities Followed By The Multitude Of Fools. As The Mediocrities And The Fools Always Form The Immense Majority, It Is Impossible For Them To Elect An Intelligent Government.