I must live in my own excrement, breathe in my own poisonous sticky fumes. Yet I am a human being! I still am. Does no one think of that?

At present, I am mainly observing the physical motion of mountains, water, trees and flowers. One is everywhere reminded of similar movements in the human body, of similar impulses of joy and suffering in plants.

I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds.

I shall go so far that people will be seized with terror at the sight of each of my works of 'living' art.

I believe in the immortality of all creatures.

I don't know whether there is anyone else at all who remembers my noble father with such sadness

Everything is dead while it lives.