He would say, "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away some day, far away..." And in that instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

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

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he?

Faith assuages, guides, restores.

What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?