The Agitator Seizes The Word. The Artist

A School Without Grades Must Have Been Concocted By Someone Who Was Drunk On Non-alcoholic Wine.

My Language Is The Common Prostitute That I Turn Into A Virgin.

The Triumph Of Morality: A Thief Who Has Broken Into A Bedroom Claims His Sense Of Shame Had Been Outraged, And By Threatening Theoccupants With Exposure Of An Immoral Act He Blackmails Them Into Not Bringing Charges For Burglary.

Language Is The Mother Of Thought, Not Its Handmaiden.

I Can Say With Pride That I Have Spent Days And Nights Not Reading Anything, And That With Unflagging Energy I Use Every Moment Toacquire Gradually An Encyclopedic Lack Of Education.