Woes and wonders of power, that tonic hell, synthesis of poison and panacea.

Torment, for some men, is a need, an appetite, and an accomplishment.

Paradise was unendurable, otherwise the first man would have adapted to it; this world is no less so, since here we regret paradise or anticipate another one. What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.

Truths begin by a conflict with the police - and end by calling them in.

Maniacs of Procreation, bipeds with devalued faces, we have lost all appeal for each other.

Reality is a creation of our excesses.

The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.