Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.

A man, when he burns, leaves only a handful of ashes. No woman can hold him. The wind must blow him away.

The human animal is a beast that dies but the fact that he’s dying don’t give him pity for others.

Mendacity is a system that we live in. Liquor is one way out an death's the other.