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

What music appeals to in us it is difficult to know; what we do know is that music reaches a zone so deep that madness itself cannot penetrate there.

Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?

Negation is the mind's first freedom, yet a negative habit is fruitful only so long as we exert ourselves to overcome it, adapt it to our needs; once acquired it can imprison us.

Lucidity's task: to attain a correct despair, an Olympian ferocity.

My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.

The only free mind is one that, pure of all intimacy with beings or objects, plies its own vacuity.