I was alive. But I was alive without a memory, without a name; I was cut off from hope as well as from remorse or regret. I had no past and would probably have no future; I was buried alive in a void which was the wound that had been dealt me. I was like the wound itself.

It's one thing to lie to ourselves. It's another thing to believe it.

Sta je dobro? — Sve sto u coveku podstice osecanje moci, volju za moc, moc samu. Sta je rdjavo? — Sve sto potice iz slabosti. Sta je sreca? — Osecanje da moc raste — da je savladan neki otpor.

They are feeding the world that will devour them and their children.

Written By Barbara Amiel

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