Everything Our Civilization Has Produced Is Entombed.

To Set One's Name To A Work Gives No One A Title To Be Remembered, For Who Knows How Many Of The Best Of Men Have Gone Without A Trace? The Iniquity Of Oblivion Blindly Scatters Her Poppyseed And When Wretchedness Falls Upon Us One Summer's Day Like Snow, All We Wish For Is To Be Forgotten.

We Learn From History As Much As A Rabbit Learns From An Experiment That's Performed Upon It.

It Is A Sore Point, Because You Do Have Advantages If You Have Access To More Than One Language. You Also Have Problems, Because On Bad Days You Don't Trust Yourself, Either In Your First Or Your Second Language, And So You Feel Like A Complete Halfwit.

By All Means Be Experimental, But Let The Reader Be Part Of The Experiment

I Feel More And More As If Time Did Not Exist At All... Only Various Spaces Interlocking According To The Rules Of A Higher Form Of Stereometry[the Geometric Measurement Of Solid Bodies], Between Which The Living And The Dead Can Move Back And Forth As They Like, And The Longer I Think About It The More It Seems To Me That We Who Are Still Alive Are Unreal In The Eyes Of The Dead.