Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

But I welcome the darkness where the two eyes of that soft panther glow. The darkness is my cultural broth. The enchanted darkness. I go on speaking to you, risking disconnection: I’m subterraneously unattainable because of what I know.

For only when I err do I get away from what I know and what I understand. If "truth" were what I can understand, it would end up being but a small truth, my-sized. Truth must reside precisely in what I shall never understand.

You don't understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body.

It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.

My life, the most truthful one, is unrecognizable, extremely interior, and there is no single word that gives it meaning.

So long as I have questions to which there are no answers, I shall go on writing.