It's true that what is morbid is highly valued today, and so you may think that I am only joking or that I've devised just one more means of praising Art with the help of irony.
You who think of us: they lived only in delusion... Know that we the People of the Book, will never die!
It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends
What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality.
I think that I am here, on this earth, To present a report on it, but to whom I don't know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place Has meaning because it changes into memory.
A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death - the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders we are not going to be judged.