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.

Self-conscious rejection of the absolute is the best way to resist God; thus illusion, the substance of life, is saved.

We cannot be normal and alive at the same time.

One doesn't live in a country, one lives in a language.

The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.

Ambition is a drug that makes its addicts potential madmen.

We die in proportion to the words we fling around us.