We Rarely Confide In Those Who Are

One Grows Out Of Pity When It's Useless.

But What Does It Mean, The Plague? It's Life, That's All.

So All A Man Could Win In The Conflict Between Plague And Life Was Knowledge And Memories.

But Too Many People Now Climb Onto The Cross Merely To Be Seen From A Greater Distance, Even If They Have To Trample Somewhat On The One Who Has Been There So Long.

Every Revolutionary Ends Up Either By Becoming An Oppressor Or A Heretic.