The soul of another is wrapped in darkness.
As regards plots I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to
have no plots. And as I think plots desirable and almost necessary, I
have this extra grudge against life.
Push out the jive,
bring in the love.
Love demands everything, and that very justly.
Behind every great fortune lies a crime.
In a man's life,
his time is but a moment, his being a mere flux,
his senses a dim glimpse, his body food for the worms,
and his soul a restless eddy…
the things of the body pass like a flowing stream;
life is a brief sojourn;
and one's mark in this world
is soon forgotten.
Propaganda is to a democracy what the bludgeon is to a totalitarian state.