What Are You Waiting For In Order

To Live Entirely Without A Goal! I Have Glimpsed This State, And Have Often Attained It, Without Managing To Remain There: I Am Too Weak For Such Happiness.

We Are Afraid Of The Enormity Of The Possible.

To Read Is To Let Someone Else Work For You - The Most Delicate Form Of Exploitation.

There Is No Other World. Nor Even This One. What, Then, Is There? The Inner Smile Provoked In Us By The Patent Nonexistence Of Both.

Old Age, After All, Is Merely The Punishment For Having Lived.