We mean are so weak. Our bodies betray even the noblest of us.

And I think the answer is that we are, in reality, terribly frail animals. And we don't like to be reminded of how frail we are — how delicate the balances are inside our own bodies, how short our stay on Earth, and how easily it is ended.

We are flawed creatures, all of us. Some of us think that means we should fix our flaws. But get rid of my flaws and there would be no one left.

Such miserable creatures of circumstance are we all!

Because the world is in a sick condition and we are all somehow infected, against our will, even if we think we are whole in mind and soul and body.

As a species, we were an abomination. All of us.

The sickness of our times for me has been just this damn thing that everything has been getting smaller and smaller and less and less important, that the romantic spirit has dried up, that there is no shame today … We're all getting so mean and small and petty and ridiculous, and we all live under the threat of extermination.

We men are wretched things.

I think we are all hopelessly flawed.

Raymond Passworthy: But... we're such little creatures. Poor humanity's so fragile, so weak. Little... little animals.

Age is deformed, youth unkind,
We scorn their bodies, they our mind.

We are weak, watery beings standing in the midst of unrealities; therefore let us turn our minds to the things that are everlasting.

How fleeting is this world yet it survives. It is ourselves that fade from it and our ephemeral lives.

Nowadays, in the new world, it is suicide to be weak.