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“There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. Your conscience ferments in it — no larger than a single grain of malt. You don't have to do anything anymore. Ever. Never ever.

An inordinate amount of time passes. It is utterly void of struggle. No ex-wives are contained within it

[...] The song of death is sweet and endless... But what is this? Somewhere in the sore, bloated *man-meat* around you — a sensation!

[...] The limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the desert. Hurting. Longing. Dancing to disco music.”
― Robert Kurvitz

“Human knowledge is never contained in one person. It grows from the relationships we create between each other and the world, and still it is never complete.”
― Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air

“The saddest part about living is the realization you only get to do it once.”
― Joanna Hathaway, Storm from the East

“See on see, kuhu nihilism viib. See ei ole enam see, mis võiks olla, või see, mis võiks mitte. See on. Kogu maailm on vahetu entroponeetilise katastroofi tsoon.”
― Robert Kurvitz, Püha ja õudne lõhn