Life has no meaning, the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal. - Jean-Paul Sartre

من هنگامي آزادم كه همه جهانيان آزاد باشند،‌تا هنگامي كه يك نفر اسير در جهان است، آزادي وجود ندارد

I lean all my weight on the porcelain ledge, I draw my face closer until it touches the mirror. The eyes, nose and mouth disappear: nothing human is left. Brown wrinkles show on each side of the feverish swelled lips, crevices, mole holes. A silky white down covers the great slopes of the cheeks, two hairs protrude from the nostrils: it is a geological embossed map. And, in spite of everything, this lunar world is familiar to me. I cannot say I RECOGNIZE the details. But the whole thing gives me an impression of something seen before which stupefies me: I slip quietly off to sleep.

People are like dice. We throw ourselves in the direction of our own choosing.