To Torture A Man You Have To

In Riemann, Hilbert Or In Banach Space Let Superscripts And Subscripts Go Their Ways. Our Symptotes No Longer Out Of Phase, We Shall Encounter, Counting, Face To Face.

Not Only Does God Play Dice With The World He Does Not Let Us See What He Has Rolled.

The Night Stared Me In The Face, Amorphous, Blind, Infinite, Without Frontiers. Not A Single Start Relieved The Darkness Behind The Glass.

I Felt Myself Being Invaded Through And Through, I Crumbled, Disintegrated, And Only Emptiness Remained.

Genius Is Not So Much A Light As It Is A Constant Awareness Of The Surrounding Gloom.