Actually, I Do Happen To Resemble A

If It Is True That Cowardice Is The Most Grave Vice, Then The Dog, At Least, Is Not Guilty Of It.

Obedient To Constraint, I Was Compelled To Submit

How Sad, Ye Gods, How Sad The World Is At Evening, How Mysterious The Mists Over The Swamps! You Will Know It When You Have Wandered Astray In Those Mists, When You Have Suffered Greatly Before Dying, When You Have Walked Through The World Carrying An Unbearable Burden. You Know It Two When You Are Weary And Ready To Leave This Earth Without Regret; Its Mists; Its Swamps And Its Rivers; Ready To Give Yourself Into The Arms Of Death With A Light Heart, Knowing That Death Alone Can Comfort You.

Not Causing Trouble, Not Touching Anything, Fixing The Primus.

In Order To Be In Control, You Have To Have A Definite Plan For At Least A Reasonable Period Of Time. So How, May I Ask, Can Man Be In Control If He Can't Even Draw Up A Plan For A Ridiculously Short Period Of Time, Say, A Thousand Years, And Is, Moreover, Unable To Ensure His Own Safety For Even The Next Day?