Book: The Revolt Of Aphrodite

We all, like ants, crawling on the Grand Lodge Sundries, absorbed into our so-called problems; and the unthinkable, unknown at this time, looks us in the face.

- Well, suppose she wakes up and plaintively ask: "can I hope for happiness?" - what would you say?
- Of course, nothing; because she knows the answer, as anyone knows the answers to their questions. In each issue, as in a capsule, already knows the answer.

But if you don't live with hope, what then to live?

Dreams are only the prose of daily life with a small addition of poetry.

Life is only short breaks parole.

Reality rushes in like a frightened bat, and turns, knocking over the candles and bumping into a white screen.

Above the stack is not illuminated star...
Science holds in chloroform
Our spirit, which is sometimes
Revolt in poetic form.

What is the point? Someday I will lost all her teeth like stones fall from a mountain slope. Only the noble shape of his mouth when something bewitching men can last longer in some postures. The muscle pass position, how old banjo. Then I die - will; but as you read this, I am.

I have probably been a little mysterious, like a monk, buying a condom.

The poet - the master of the talent, not yet in his unconditional ownership of his gift given to him for use. He does not read morality, but brings pleasure.

Great work - it successfully passed a state of mind, cosa mentale.

War is for people of all: the absence of unemployment, freedom from the wife and kids a false sense of purpose in life. Lay the blame for their own neurasthenia neighbor and punish him. It was really inevitable and at the same time illusory. The reason everyone loves the war, is simple: don't have time to ask an even more important question, namely: "What have I done with my life?" I have enough time, but not common sense. I immersed myself in this amazing amnesia that is able to infect only massive bloodshed. The gods crave blood! Mass slaughter! Yay!

Something is wrong in a philosophy that offers hope for happiness. Despite the position of the person (tragic), there must be at least a promise of happiness that was felt in the air.

For each act there is a hundred reasons. Ultimately it is impossible to say which of them was decisive. Life is getting napoliroma, not clearer.