Asylums are nothing more than gardens of human cabbages, of miserable, grotesque, repugnant human beings watered with the fertilizer of injections.
I would like death to come to me while I am planting cabbages, caring little for death and even less for the imperfection of my garden.
Que la mort me trouve plantant mes choux, mais nonchalant d'elle, et encore plus de mon jardin imparfait.
"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax Of cabbages and kings And why the sea is boiling hot And whether pigs have wings.
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