There is no moving forward, only standing still. When we catch a wild goose, it's not the goose we catch. There is no progress, only a semblance of such.
Dreams beget illusions that are difficult to destroy. Humanity prefers the comfort of a lie to the coldness of a dark truth. But there is beauty in the void, to be sure.
Steeped in illusion, it is rather easy to wake up in the morning. Disabused of all pretense, the task becomes insufferable. And you grab hold of anything—anything at all—to give you a reason to do it all over again.
Dreams beget illusions that are difficult to destroy. Humanity prefers the comfort of a lie to the coldness of a dark truth. But there is beauty in the void, to be sure.
Steeped in illusion, it is rather easy to wake up in the morning. Disabused of all pretense, the task becomes insufferable. And you grab hold of anything—anything at all—to give you a reason to do it all over again.
There is no laughter, only a transient rush of air. When you turn to greet your brother, his smile is not meant for you. There is no happiness, only a ray of light in the void.
