The True Enemy Of Man Is Generalization.

A True Opium Of The People Is A Belief In Nothingness After Death.

If I Am All Mankind, Are They Themselves Without Me?

Poetry Is News Brought To The Mountains By A Unicorn And An Echo.

And Now I Am Ready To Keep Running When The Sun Rises Beyond The Borderlands Of Death. I Already See Mountain Ridges In The Heavenly Forest Where, Beyond Every Essence, A New Essence Awaits.

Evil Grows And Bears Fruit, Which Is Understandable, Because It Has Logic And Probability On Its Side And Also, Of Course, Strength. The Resistance Of Tiny Kernels Of Good, To Which No One Grants The Power Of Causing Far-reaching Consequences, Is Entirely Mysterious, However. Such Seeming Nothingness Not Only Lasts But Contains Within Itself Enormous Energy Which Is Revealed Gradually.