I know what the fear is. The fear is not for what is lost. What is lost is already in the wall. What is lost is already behind the locked doors. The fear is for what is still to be lost.

The only place they registered at all was on a small black device called a Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic which winked away quietly to itself. It nestled in the darkness inside a leather satchel which Ford Prefect habitually wore slung around his neck.

Gândurile sunt umbrele senzaţiilor noastre - întotdeauna mai întunecoase, mai goale, mai simple decât acestea

Written By Friedrich Nietzsche

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