There is a destination but no way there; what we refer to as way is hesitation.
If what was supposed to have been destroyed in Paradise was destructible, then it was not decisive; but if it was indestructible, then we are living in a false belief.
One reads in order to ask questions
This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.
My peers, lately, have found companionship through means of intoxication - it makes them sociable. I, however, cannot force myself to use drugs to cheat on my loneliness - it is all that I have - and when the drugs and alcohol dissipate, will be all that my peers have as well.
I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.
Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.
Celibacy and suicide are a similar levels of understanding, suicide and a martyr's death not so by any means, perhaps marriage and a martyr's death.
Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
Evil is whatever distracts.
Writing means revealing oneself to excess.
I made the remark that I don't avoid people in order to live quietly, but rather in order to be able to die quietly.
In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.
Evil is the starry sky of the Good.
I am more uncertain than I ever was; I feel only the power of life. And I am senselessly empty.
If something good has lost its way into you, it will make its escape overnight. I know you.
sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty.
Adam's first domestic pet after the expulsion from Paradise was the serpent.
Everything you say is boring and incomprehensible, but that alone doesn't make it true.
The spirit becomes free only when it ceases to be a support.
As far as I have seen, at school...they aimed at blotting out one's individuality.
Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into." "You only need to change your direction," said the cat, and ate it up.
The limited circle is pure.
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