The Echo is the voice of a reflection in a mirror.

Echo is being’s call of distress into the present.

Echo is that which, by exposing us to modernity’s deep distress, also launches the other beginning of philosophy.

Echo is the scream of forgotten being from amidst the reign of technology.

Fire is the most tolerable third party.

Fire is the original disinfectant.

Fire is the fruit of a winter’s day.

Fire is constantly turning on its axis to strike at the wind in one direction after another like someone beleaguered who tries to parry blows coming at him at once from all sides.

Internet is a place with all of the piracy and none of the scurvy.

Internet is a place where men are men, women are men, and children are FBI agents.

Internet is a paradoxical invention in that the people who invented it never would have got around to doing it if they'd had the Internet.

The Internet is an evil on par with that which Edgar Allen Poe warned regarding the enormous multiplication of books: It throws in the reader's way piles of lumber in which he must painfully grope for the scraps of useful matter, peradventure interspersed.