"You in my mortified soul, made your bed and domain, abhorrence, to whom I'm bound, as the convict to the chain, as the drunkard to the jug, as the gambler to the game, as the vermin to the corpse, I damn you out of my shame"
"The machine persecutes the young: it locks them up, tortures them, kills them, they are the living proof of its impotence. it expels them: it sells them, human flesh, cheap labor, abroad." E.G
