The world is a daily invention.
Slowness is only a privilege of the speedy.
He died of the disease he himself baptized.
Every reading of a text is valid, except that of its author.
You hammer me with stupidly soft words.
If you win, you have not yet played.
He who edifies, destroys.
What can they know of wars, those who've never lost one?
I want to go to where they recognize I'm a fugitive.
Those who shave too close are making a mistake: smoothness scratches.
Any selection of the sofismas made by me would be biased: in favor of the ones that resonate with me, or that I can understand or easily translate. Thus the parts I would be leaving out would be aspects of his thought that are not attractive or comprehensible, a systematic bias, then, not an accidental one.