And Nobody Lies As Much As The

Parasitism Is The Only Practice Of The Church; With Its Ideal Of Anaemia, Its Holiness, Draining All Blood, All Love, All Hope For Life; The Beyond As The Will To Negate Every Reality; The Cross As The Mark Of Recognition For The Most Subterranean Conspiracy That Ever Existed-against Health, Beauty, Whatever Has Turned Out Well, Courage, Spirit, Graciousness Of The Soul, Against Life Itself.

Unresolved Dissonances Between The Characters And Dispositions Of The Parents Continue To Reverberate In The Nature Of The Child And Make Up The History Of Its Inner Sufferings.

Why Couldn't The World That Concerns Us- Be A Fiction? And If Somebody Asked, 'but To Be A Fiction There Surely Belongs An Author?'- Couldn't One Answer Simply: 'why? Doesn't This "belongs" Perhaps Belong To The Fiction, Too?'

One Must Repay Good And Ill; But Why Just To The Person Who Did Us Good Or Ill?

The Snake Which Cannot Cast Its Skin Has To Die. As Well The Minds Which Are Prevented From Changing Their Opinions; They Cease To Be Mind.