In The End, We Get Older, We

Let No Thought Pass Incognito, And Keep Your Notebook As Strictly As The Authorities Keep Their Register Of Aliens.

Living Substance Conquers The Frenzy Of Destruction Only In The Ecstasy Of Procreation.

True Translation Is Transparent: It Does Not Obscure The Original, Does Not Stand In Its Light, But Rather Allows Pure Language, As If Strengthened By Its Own Medium, To Shine Even More Fully On The Original.

Every Passion Borders On The Chaotic, But The Collector's Passion Borders On The Chaos Of Memories.

Less And Less Frequently Do We Encounter People With The Ability To Tell A Tale Properly. More And More Often There Is Embarrassment All Around When The Wish To Hear A Story Is Expressed. It Is As If Something That Seemed Inalienable To Us, The Securest Among Our Possessions, Were Taken From Us: The Ability To Exchange Our Experiences...experience Has Fallen In Value. And It Looks As If It Is Continuing To Fall Into Bottomlessness.