As we wash our body so we should wash destiny, change life as we change clothes.
To kill our dream life would be to kill ourselves, to mutilate our soul. Dreaming is the one thing we have that's really ours, invulnerably and inalterably ours.
Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality - it's all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I'm attending here is a show with another set. And the show I'm attending is myself.
Between me and life is a faint glass. No matter how sharply I see and understand life, I cannot touch it.
I’ve dreamed a lot. I’m tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything.
Ah, who will save me from existing? It's neither death nor life that I want.
I pass times, I pass silences, formless worlds pass me by.
There’s enough metaphysics in not thinking about anything.
We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.
To need to dominate others is to need others. The commander is dependent.
The world belongs to who doesn't feel. The primary condition to be a practical man is the absence of sensitivity.
My joy is as painful as my pain.
I realize that, while often happy and often cheerful, I am always sad.
Writing is like paying myself a formal visit.
Being tired of all illusions and of everything about illusions – the loss of illusions, the uselessness of having them, the prefatigue of having to have them in order to lose them, the sadness of having had them, the intellectual shame of having had them knowing that they would have to end this way.
One never lives so intensely as when one has been thinking hard.
I always live in the present. I don’t know the future and no longer have the past. The former oppresses me as the possibility of everything, the latter as the reality of nothing.
Every day things happen in the world that cannot be explained by any law of things we know. Every day they're mentioned and forgotten, and the same mystery that brought them takes them away, transforming their secret into oblivion. Such is the law by which things that can't be explained must be forgotten. The visible world goes on as usual in the broad daylight. Otherness watches us from the shadows.
I am the escaped one, After I was born They locked me up inside me But I left. My soul seeks me, Through hills and valley, I hope my soul Never finds me.
Every man who deserves to be famous knows it is not worth the trouble.
I crave time in all its duration, and I want to be myself unconditionally.
I am tired of myself in every way. All things, deep down to the secret of their roots, are stained by the color of my weariness.
I'm upset by the happiness of all these men who don't know they're unhappy. Because of that, though, I love them all. Dear vegetables!
The essence of what I desire is simply this: to sleep away life.
Everything is theater.
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