Skepticism is the sadism of embittered souls.

The universal view melts things into a blur.

Between the demand to be clear,and the temptation to be obscure, impossible to decide which deserves more respect.

I am the beast with a contorted grin, contracting down to illusion and dilating toward infinity, both growing and dying, delightfully suspended between hope for nothing and despair of everything, brought up among perfumes and poisons, consumed with love and hatred, killed by lights and shadows. My symbol is death of light and the flame of death. Sparks die in me only to be reborn as thunder and lightning. Darkness itself glows in me.

How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.

Utopia is a mixture of childish rationalism and secularized angelism.

By what aberration has suicide, the only truly normal action, become the attribute of the flawed?