I Have Drawn From The Well Of

Psychoanalysis Is The Mental Illness It Purports To Cure

Not Greeting People Isn't Enough. One Also Doesn't Greet People One Doesn't Know.

We Are Sacrificing Ourselves For Our Ready-made Goods; We Are Consumers And Live In Such A Way That The Means May Consume The End.

War: First, One Hopes To Win; Then One Expects The Enemy To Lose; Then, One Is Satisfied That He Too Is Suffering; In The End, One Is Surprised That Everyone Has Lost.

Imagination Has The Right To Feast In The Shade Of The Tree That It Turns Into A Forest.