Squeeze Human Nature Into The Straitjacket Of

The Superman Is A Premature Ideal, One That Presupposes Man.

Solitude Would Be Ideal If You Could Pick The People To Avoid.

Progress, Under Whose Feet The Grass Mourns And The Forest Turns Into Paper From Which Newspaper Plants Grow, Has Subordinated The Purpose Of Life To The Means Of Subsistence And Turned Us Into The Nuts And Bolts For Our Tools.

Adults Who Still Derive Childlike Pleasure From Hanging Gifts Of A Ready-made Education On The Christmas Tree Of A Child Waiting Outside The Door To Life Do Not Realize How Unreceptive They Are Making The Children To Everything That Constitutes The True Surprise Of Life.

One Cleans Someone Else's Threshold Of Consciousness Only If One's Own Home Is Dirty.