This is error-making joy, plus a fruitful unthinking, pushing idiocy into itself as immediacy, except unfaithful to itself already, because of no reason of which I am currently aware, or the line of zero points.
The colors of my eyes are restless with their useless regularities, as once their future revelations were disguised like this, and there came the line of zero points.
It is difficult to abdicate to this mode of expression, when it is unknowingly so far in advance of science that it becomes almost unreal, except that it is so as this, as it is, along the line of zero points.
If I wish only to know something more than before, then that amounts to the same as just then, in a way of expression, not unhinged from the line of zero points.
Withhold not the path of inquiry, for it is the valve, inspired by the line of zero points.
Or does this restless machine make me a fool to love you so? asked the line of zero points.