Maniacs of Procreation, bipeds with devalued faces, we have lost all appeal for each other.
Nothing proves that we are more than nothing.
Espousing the melancholy of ancient symbols, I would have freed myself.
Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.
The mind is the result of the torments the flesh undergoes or inflicts upon itself.
I lost my sleep, and this is the greatest tragedy that can befall someone. It is much worse than sitting in prison.