Time Is Heavy Sometimes; Imagine How Heavy

The Task Of The Solitary Man Is To Be Even More Solitary.

I Foresee The Day When We Shall Read Nothing But Telegrams And Prayers.

One Cannot Live Without Motives. I Have No Motives Left, And I Am Living.

Our Place Is Somewhere Between Being And Nonbeing - Between Two Fictions.

The Fear Of Your Own Solitude, Of Its Vast Surface And Its Infinity… Remorse Is The Voice Of Solitude. And What Does This Whispering Voice Say? Everything In Us That Is Not Human Anymore.