And It Was Like Knocking Four Quick

There Are Always Reasons For Murdering A Man. But There Is No Justification For His Existence.

Whatever Prevents You From Doing Your Work Has Become Your Work.

What, Then, Is That Incalculable Feeling That Deprives The Mind Of The Sleep Necessary To Life? A World That Can Be Explained Even With Bad Reasons Is A Familiar World. But, On The Other Hand, In A Universe Suddenly Divested Of Illusions And Lights, Man Feels An Alien, A Stranger. His Exile Is Without Remedy Since He Is Deprived Of The Memory Of A Lost Home Or The Hope Of A Promised Land. This Divorce Between Man And His Life, The Actor And His Setting, Is Properly The Feeling Of Absurdity.

One Cannot Be A Part-time Nihilist.

As Soon As One Does Not Kill Oneself, One Must Keep Silent About Life.