Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.
On Creating — What we crave, what we want to see in others eyes, is that servile expression, an unconcealed infatuation with our gestures.
I do nothing, granted. But I see the hours pass - which is better than trying to fill them.
Every thought derives from a thwarted sensation.
To devastate by language, to blow up the word and with it the world.
Only superficial minds approach an idea with delicacy.