One Must Use The Weapons One Finds

While To Live In The Past And Think Of What Was Good And Beautiful About It Amounts To A Sort Of Seasoning Of The Present, The Perennial Wait For Tomorrow Is Bound To Result In Chronic Discontent That Poisons One's Entire Outlook.

I Am Not Afraid Of Death, But Would Not Want To Die In Some Obscure Or Pointless Way.

A Subject To Which Few Intellectuals Ever Give A Thought Is The Right To Be A Vagrant, The Freedom To Wander. Yet Vagrancy Is A Deliverance, And Life On The Open Road Is The Essence Of Freedom. To Have The Courage To Smash The Chains With Which Modern Life Has Weighted Us (under The Pretext That It Was Offering Us More Liberty), Then To Take Up The Symbolic Stick And Bundle And Get Out.

I Am Full Of The Sorrow That Goes With Changes In Surroundings, Those Successive Stages Of Annihilation That Slowly Lead To The Great And Final Void.

For Now It Seems That By Advancing Into Unknown Territories, I Entered Into My Life