We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people c >>
We are all born mad. Some remain so. >>
The bastard! He doesn't exist! >>
Death twitches my ear. Live, he says, I am coming. >>
When the body sinks into death, the essence of man is revealed. Man is >>
We should weep for men at their birth, not at their death. >>
Personally I have no bone to pick with graveyards, I take the air there willingly, perhaps more willingly than elsewhere, when take the air I must.