The periods of transition that separate consecutive adaptations ( because by no expedient of macabre transubstantiation can the grave-sheets serve as swaddling-clothes ) represent the perilous zones in the life of the individual, dangerous, precarious, painful, mysterious and fertile, when for a moment the boredom of living is replaced by the suffering of being . ( At this point, and with a heavy heart and for the satisfaction or disgruntlement of Gideans, semi and integral, I am inspired to concede a brief parenthesis to all the analogivorous, who are capable of interpreting the Live dangerously, that victorious hiccough in vacuo, as the national anthem of the true ego exiled in habit.
