One reads in order to ask questions
Photography concentrates one's eye on the superficial. For that reason it obscures the hidden life which glimmers through the outlines of things like a play of light and shade. One can't catch that even with the sharpest lens.
There has never been a time in which I have been convinced from within myself that I am alive. You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away. I have a constant longing, my dear sir, to catch a glimpse of things as they may have been before they show themselves to me.
I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.
Maybe innocence makes its way easiest through the elemental chaos of this world.
The whole visible world is perhaps nothing other than a motivation of man's wish to rest for a moment an attempt to falsify the fact of knowledge, to try to turn the knowledge into the goal.
This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart.
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
The Messiah will only come when he is no longer needed.
Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.
I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.
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.
As far as I have seen, at school...they aimed at blotting out one's individuality.
Writing means revealing oneself to excess.
Evil is whatever distracts.
I am more uncertain than I ever was; I feel only the power of life. And I am senselessly empty.
Adam's first domestic pet after the expulsion from Paradise was the serpent.
sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty.
Everything you say is boring and incomprehensible, but that alone doesn't make it true.
Love has as few problems as a motor car. The only problems are the driver, the passengers, and the road.
If something good has lost its way into you, it will make its escape overnight. I know you.
Evil is the starry sky of the Good.
In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.
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.
The spirit becomes free only when it ceases to be a support.
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