'mad' Is A Term We Use To

Every Tiny Part Of Us Cries Out Against The Idea Of Dying, And Hopes To Live Forever.

We Cannot Bear To Regard Ourselves Simply As Playthings Of Blind Chance, We Cannot Admit To Feeling Ourselves Abandoned.

Nature Is Honest, We Aren't; We Embalm Our Dead.

We Know Well Enough When We're Being Unjust And Despicable. But We Don't Restrain Ourselves Because We Experience A Certain Pleasure, A Primitive Sort Of Satisfaction In Moments Like That.

Each Of Us Is The Only Person Who Can Give The Other What Each Of Us Wants To Have: Peace.