The superiority complex of humans is astonishing. We always speak of other animals as if we were not animals ourselves.

I sometimes wonder if I am mad, but then I wonder what it means to be mad. I mean, can you truly say you can define madness? Or is it just a fabricated disease for those who are too "abnormal" for the "normal".

Justice is merely vengeance in disguise.

Death is our savior from life.

While reality and imagination is truth, everything and nothing is reality, for truth is merely imagined reality.

I find it quite funny—no, hilarious—that despite my deep hatred for myself, if ever given the chance, I would never wish to be anyone else; not even for the world.