Don't You Know That Every Perfect Life

Time, Which Runs Through The World Like An Endless Tinsel Thread, Seemed To Pass Through The Centre Of This Room And Through The Centre Of These People And Suddenly To Pause And Petrify, Stiff, Still And Glittering... And The Objects In The Room Drew A Little Closer Together.

Have We Not Huddled In Bunkers, While Some Premonition Of Tomorrow Hung In The Air And A Comrade Started Singing? Oh, It Felt So Melancholy! And It Was Kitsch.

That The Will Of The People Can Be Established By Voting For Democrats Is, Of Course, A Delusion. Yet When Considering A Non-threatening System For Deciding Between Diverse Interests, Then Voting, Of Course, Can Be Regarded As A Humane And Civilized Process.

The Thoughts Of My Emotionally So Disturbed Days Must Be Found Again, Shifted And Developed Further. Here And There Something Of The Loose Remarks I Make Must Be Used, But Only When It Finds My Attention Again.

... The Structure Of A Page Of Good Prose Is, Analyzed Logically, Not Something Frozen But The Vibrating Of A Bridge, Which Changes With Every Step One Takes On It.