I do not know what writer compared the tedium with a cancer of the soul. To each his tedium. Mine is more like an ulcer of moods with access acidity that attacks the material with which they are woven particularly great ideas - and that leaves in tatters. Pirrón invented a systematic doubt, Descartes methodical doubt; As for me -and my practice a pathological doubt ruefully. Now reached that stage of skepticism disturbing, I find in me the strength to live like pedagogos- say the authors and their doctrines. And here I am reduced to crumble in a vademécum some sophistry to me symptomatic of allergy that inspire me his metaphysics and morals to which I think the only thing that suits them are gobbledygook and blibliblí terms.

Frédéric Schiffter