I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent

What am I doing here?

Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!

No one's serious at seventeen.

What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.