Hungarian Language-savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura:words of nectar and cyanide.

Who Rebels? Who rises in arms? Rarely the slave, but almost always the oppressor turned slave.

It is an understatement to say that in this society injustices abound: in truth, it is itself the quintessence of injustice.

What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity?