The Thirst For The Infinite Proves Infinity.

Oh Lord! Open The Doors Of Night For Me So That I May Leave This Place And Disappear.

Love Resembles A Tree: It Bends Under Its Own Weight, Deeply Rooted In Our Being And Sometimes Turns Green In The Ruins Of A Heart.

Death Belongs To God Alone; By What Right Do Men Touch That Unknown Thing?

I Write With One Hand, But I Fight With Both.

To Rove About, Musing, That Is To Say Loitering, Is, For A Philosopher, A Good Way Of Spending Time.