To accomplish nothing and die of the strain

Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

By all evidence we are in the world to do nothing; but instead of nonchalantly promenading our own corruption, we exude our sweat and grow winded upon the fetid air.

Word - that invisible dagger.

This very second has vanished forever, lost in the anonymous mass of the irrevocable. It will never return. I suffer from this and I do not. Everything is unique - and insignificant.

Every thought derives from a thwarted sensation.

No human beings are more dangerous than those who have suffered for a belief