Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?
To think is an act. To feel is a fact.
It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.
Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?
Living isn't courage, knowing that you're living, that's courage
I write to save someone's life, probably my own
I do not know much. But there are certain advantages in not knowing. Like virgin territory, the mind is free of preconceptions. Everything I do not know forms the greater part of me: This is my largesse. And with this I understand everything. The things I do not know constitute my truth.
Do you ever suddenly find it strange to be yourself?
The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much.
I only achieve simplicity with enormous effort
Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.
Putting my hand in someone else’s has always been my definition of happiness. Before I fall asleep, often - in that small struggle not to lose consciousness and go into the greater world - often, before I get up the courage to go into the vastness of sleep, I pretend that someone has my hand in theirs, and then I go, go to that enormous absence of form that is sleep. And when even after that I don’t have courage, I dream.
Her curiosity instructed her more than the answers she was given.
My life, the most truthful one, is unrecognizable, extremely interior, and there is no single word that gives it meaning.
The mystery of human destiny is that we are fated, but that we have the freedom to fulfill or not fulfill our fate: realization of our fated destiny depends on us. While inhuman beings like the cockroach realize the entire cycle without going astray because they make no choices.
Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting
You don't understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body.
There it is, the sea, the most incomprehensible of non-human existences.
The world's continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.
Whether she won or lost, she would continue to wrestle with life. It would not be with her own life alone but with all of life. Something had finally been released within her. And there it was, the sea.
I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest.
Do not mourn the dead. They know what they are doing.
And even sadness was also something for rich people, for people who could afford it, for people who didn't have anything better to do. Sadness was a luxury.
How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?
Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy.
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