Art Is A Kind Of Artificial Memory

As We Live Our Precarious Lives On The Brink Of The Void, Constantly Coming Closer To A State Of Nonbeing, We Are All Too Often Aware Of Our Fragitlity.

Anything That Consoles Is Fake.

Mathematics Is Good For The Soul, Getting Things Right Enlivens A Sense Of Truth, Efforts To Understand Automatically Purify Desires.

Evil Soon Makes Tools Out Of Those Who Don't Hate It.

There Is No Beyond, There Is Only Here, The Infinitely Small, Infinitely Great And Utterly Demanding Present.