Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
Hanns Eisler
The only thing which consoles us
For our miseries is diversion
And yet this is the greatest of our miseries
For it is this which principally hinders us
From reflecting upon ourselves
And which makes us insensibly ruin ourselves
Without this we should be in a state of weariness
And this weariness would spur us
To seek a more solid means of escaping from it
But diversions amuse us
And lead us unconsciously to death
The only thing which consoles us was written by Blaise Pascal & Hanns Eisler.