I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.
I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn
A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he?