I have lived eighty years of life and know nothing for it, but to be resigned and tell myself that flies are born to be eaten by spiders and man to be devoured by sorrow.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I kill flies, I eat meat, you know, whatever.
You may look back on your life and accept it as good or evil. But it is far, far harder to admit that you have been completely unimportant; that in the great sum of things, all a man's endless grapplings are no more significant than the scuttlings of a cockroach.
Insects are my secret fear. That's what terrifies me more than anything - insects.
I'm the breadwinner. I kill the spiders. Actually I don't kill them. I put them in a plastic bag and take them outside. I take out the trash cans. I change the light bulbs. I lug the 50 lbs. suitcases down the stairs.
I've reached the 50th year of my life, and now every question related with life also includes thinking about death. When I leave, I want to leave to my offspring a clear idea about identity.
What would be left of our tragedies if an insect were to present us his?
If I see a spider in the flat, I try to get a cup and a piece of paper and throw it out of the window. I can't kill them because they're good for catching flies.
Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
I never kill insects. If I see ants or spiders in the room, I pick them up and take them outside. Karma is everything.
I don't know about you, but I find it exhilarating to see how vague psychological notions evaporate and give rise to a physical, mechanistic understanding of the mind, even if it's the mind of the fly.