Isn't Joyful Or Painful This Pain In

To Say! To Know How To Say! To Know How To Exist Via The Written Voice And The Intellectual Image! This Is All That Matters In Life; The Rest Is Men And Women, Imagined Loves And Factitious Vanities, The Wiles Of Our Digestion And Forgetfulness, People Squirming — Like Worms When A Rock Is Lifted — Under The Huge Abstract Boulder Of The Meaningless Blue Sky.

The World Belongs To Who Doesn't Feel. The Primary Condition To Be A Practical Man Is The Absence Of Sensitivity.

Against Destiny I Fulfilled My Duty. Uselessly? No, For I Fulfilled It.

Multipliquei-me Para Me Sentir.

The Chill Of What I Won't Feel Gnaws At My Present Heart.