Do you remember the sight we saw, my soul, that soft summer morning round a turning in the path, the disgusting carcass on a bed scattered with stones, its legs in the air like a woman in need burning its wedding poisons like a fountain with its rhythmic sobs, I could hear it clearly flowing with a long murmuring sound, but I touch my body in vain to find the wound. I am the vampire of my own heart, one of the great outcasts condemned to eternal laughter who can no longer smile. Am I dead? I must be dead.

It's the devil who pulls the strings that make us dance

Even as a child I felt in my heart two opposite emotions: the horror of life and the ecstasy of life.

The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance; We find delight in the most loathsome things; Some furtherance of Hell each new day brings, And yet we feel no horror in that rank advance.

We all have the republican spirit in our veins, like syphilis in our bones. We are democratized and venerealized.

God is the only being who, in order to reign, doesn't even need to exist.

An oasis of horror in a desert of boredom.