No Human Beings Are More Dangerous Than

Philosophers Write For Professors; Thinkers For Writers.

Melancholy Redeems This Universe, And Yet It Is Melancholy That Separates Us From It.

Woes And Wonders Of Power, That Tonic Hell, Synthesis Of Poison And Panacea.

Freedom Can Be Manifested Only In The Void Of Beliefs, In The Absence Of Axioms, And Only Where The Laws Have No More Authority Than A Hypothesis.

Ennui Is The Echo In Us Of Time Tearing Itself Apart.