And I want to be held down. I don't know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.

I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.

The only truth is that I live. Sincerely, I live. Who am I? Well, that's a bit much.

I write as if to save somebody’s life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.

Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.

I, who called love my hope for love.

Reality prior to my language exists as an unthinkable thought. . . . life precedes love, bodily matter precedes the body, and one day in its turn language shall have preceded possession of silence.