He Who Is Not A Bird Should

One Should Die Proudly When It Is No Longer Possible To Live Proudly.

Thoughts Are The Shadows Of Our Feelings - Always Darker, Emptier And Simpler.

This Is The Hardest Of All: To Close The Open Hand Out Of Love, And Keep Modest As A Giver.

In Solitude The Lonely Man Is Eaten Up By Himself, Among Crowds By The Many.

All Truth Is Crooked, Time Itself Is A Circle