I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.
O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.
But the problem is to make the soul into a monster
No one's serious at seventeen.
Unhappiness was my god.
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.