Since All Life Is Futility, Then The

Progress Is The Injustice Each Generation Commits With Regard To Its Predecessors.

Only Optimists Commit Suicide, Optimists Who No Longer Succeed At Being Optimists. The Others, Having No Reason To Live, Why Would They Have Any To Die?

Discretion Is Deadly To Genius; Ruinous To Talent.

True Contact Between Beings Is Established Only By Mute Presence, By Apparent Non-communication, By That Mysterious And Wordless Exchange Which Resembles Inward Prayer.

Consciousness Is Nature's Nightmare.