Our First Intuitions Are The True Ones.

What I Know At Sixty, I Knew As Well At Twenty. Forty Years Of A Long, Superfluous, Labor Of Verification.

Illusion Begets And Sustains The World; We Do Not Destroy One Without Destroying The Other. Which Is What I Do Every Day. An Apparently Ineffectual Operation, Since I Must Begin All Over Again The Next Day.

Whenever I Happen To Be In A City Of Any Size, I Marvel That Riots Do Not Break Out Everyday: Massacres, Unspeakable Carnage, A Doomsday Chaos. How Can So Many Human Beings Coexist In A Space So Confined Without Hating Each Other To Death?

Only Optimists Commit Suicide, Optimists Who No Longer Succeed At Being Optimists. The Others, Having No Reason To Live, Why Would They Have Any To Die?

Man Started Out On The Wrong Foot. The Misadventure In Paradise Was The First Consequence. The Rest Had To Follow.