The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.

All day long he was docile, intelligent, good, Though sometimes changing to a darker mood. He seemed hypocritical, could tell better lies, in the dark he saw dots of colors behind closed eyes, clenched fists, put his tongue out at his elder brother.

In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.

As I descended into impassable rivers I no longer felt guided by the ferrymen.

I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.

I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.

Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.