Wittgenstein

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I don’t know my way
about . . . View is still not clear . . .
One must be silent

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If a lion could
talk, nothing intelligent
would ever get done

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The bewitchment of
sex is war . . . A religious
night ceremony

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A soul is like a
fresh seed sown on the ground of
unlocked timelessness

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I don’t know why we
are here . . . Logic is not like
walking in the snow

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Music should be played.
Humor is transcendental.
Nothing is tragic.

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Science is the soul
of seclusion . . . The body
an unknown language

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The sun will rise on
a mirror-image of the
world . . . Vanity church

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Harmony is a
dangerous organism
that limits my world

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Silliness is no
less complicated than a
combination lock

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Reality is
a public exhibition
of stupidities

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Every culture is
tormented by the music
of eternal life

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A confession is
an inner process with not
an inkling of truth

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I awaken to
the green valleys of barren
imagination

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Tomorrow is based
on the metaphysical
mistakes of today

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In a certain sense,
to die in your sleep would be
deceiving oneself

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Contradictions are
very wise . . . They say nothing
about everything

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Pain is nothing for
the truly religious man
who sits astride death

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For man to enjoy
war he must be frightened to
death of bad spirits

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If only we had
eyes to see the horrors of
peace all around us

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Sex is a system
of misleading techniques . . . The
body knows too much

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Death is a theory,
not an activity . . . A
great hypothesis

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To lie is a part
of life . . . The deeper truth will
take care of itself

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