We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.
From Georg Buchner
The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.
The weapon of the Republic is terror, and virtue is its strength.
Raise your eyes and count the small gang of your oppressors who are only strong through the blood they suck from you and through your arms which you lend them unwillingly.
Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.
That is a long word: forever!
Dying people often become childish.
Death is the most blessed dream.
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