I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.

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

In the world there exists no aesthetic plane, not even the aesthetic plane of goodness.

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

Love is so much more deadly than I had thought, love is so much inherent as the very lack, and we are guaranteed by a need to be renewed continuously. Love is now, is forever. There is just the blow of grace - call it passion.

I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.

What I want is to live of that initial and primordial something that was what made some things reach the point of aspiring to be human.