Man Is A Robot With Defects.

If I Were To Be Totally Sincere, I Would Say That I Do Not Know Why I Live And Why I Do Not Stop Living. The Answer Probably Lies In The Irrational Character Of Life Which Maintains Itself Without Reason.

As The Years Pass, The Number Of Those We Can Communicate With Diminishes. When There Is No Longer Anyone To Talk To, At Last We Will Be As We Were Before Stooping To A Name.

I Feel Completely Detached From Any Country, Any Group. I Am A Metaphysically Displaced Person

Tyrants Are Always Assassinated Too Late. That Is Their Great Excuse.

Philosophers Write For Professors; Thinkers For Writers.