I am sad for the world, not for myself. I would like to believe it will go on without me, and people will be happy without me, loving the world and each other; but they don’t love each other or the world. I don’t know why.
There is something wrong with our race, something that makes us destructive and self-destructive. We all know it. We used to call it a curse. Now we call it a genetic defect. It is good that we have finally accepted it, and are killing ourselves. The only bad thing is that we are killing the world as well.