No bad man can be a good poet.

The writer is the Faust of modern society, the only surviving individualist in a mass age. To his orthodox contemporaries he seems a semi-madman.

A conscious attempt to fall asleep is sure to produce insomnia, to try to be conscious of one's own digestion is a sure way to upset the stomach. Consciousness is a poison when we apply it to ourselves. Consciousness is a light directed outward. it's like the headlights on a locomotive—turn them inward and you'd have a crash.

She was here on earth to make sense of its wild enchantments.

Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.

As far as modern writing is concerned, it is rarely rewarding to translate it, although it might be easy. Translation is very much like copying paintings.

As in an explosion, I would erupt with all the wonderful things I saw and understood in this world.