I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.

A man should not love the moon. An ax should not lose weight in his hand. His garden should smell of rotting apples, And grow a fair amount of nettles.

If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?

Grow your tree of falsehood from a small grain of truth.

I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.

Consolation Calm down. Both your sins and your good deeds will be lost in oblivion.

The child who dwells inside us trusts that there are wise men somewhere who know the truth.