Yes, everything's just fine. It's all perfectly fine. Except for one thing: it's all screwed up. - Fernando Pessoa

This little boy playing next to me is an intellectual mass of cells - better yet, he's a clockwork of subatomic movements, a strange electrical conglomeration of millions of solar systems in minature. [58, Zenith trans.]

… And I, who timidly hate life, fear death with fascination. I fear this nothingness that could be something else, and I fear it as nothing and as something else simultaneously, as if gross horror and non-existence could coincide there, as if my coffin could entrap the eternal breathing of a bodily soul, as if immortality could be tormented by confinement. The idea of hell, which only a satanic soul could have invented seems to me to have derived from this sort of confusion - a mixture of two different fears that contradict and contaminate each other.

كل ما يعرضه الإنسان، يعبر عنه، ليس سوى ملاحظة إلى هامش نص ممحو بالكامل. يمكننا، إلى حد ما، ووفقا لمعنى الملاحظة، أن نستنتج ما يمكن أن يكون عليه معنى النص: بيد أن شكا يبقى حاضرا دائما فكل المعاني الممكنة متعددة.