Maniacs Of Procreation, Bipeds With Devalued Faces,

It Is Not Worth The Bother Of Killing Yourself, Since You Always Kill Yourself Too Late.

Tears Do Not Burn Except In Solitude.

Shame On The Man Who Goes To His Grave Escorted By The Miserable Hopes That Have Kept Him Alive.

I Would Like To Go Mad On One Condition, Namely, That I Would Become A Happy Madman, Lively And Always In A Good Mood, Without Any Troubles And Obsessions, Laughing Senselessly From Morning To Night.

Knowledge, Having Irritated And Stimulated Our Appetite For Power, Will Lead Us Inexorably To Our Ruin.