I Am Not My Own Friend.time Cuts

When A Writer Is Born Into A Family, The Family Is Finished.

Consciousness Even In My Sleep Changes Primary Colors. The Features Of My Face Melt Like A Wax Doll In The Fire. And Who Can Consent To See In The Mirror The Mere Face Of Man?

Be Young Forever, Seasons Of The Earth.

The Death Of A Man Is Like The Fall Of A Mighty Nation That Had Valiant Armies, Captains, And Prophets, And Wealthy Ports And Ships All Over The Seas.

It Was Only Toward The Middle Of The Twentieth Century That The Inhabitants Of Many European Countries Came, In General Unpleasantly, To The Realization That Their Fate Could Be Influenced Directly By Intricate And Abstruse Books Of Philosophy.