I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.

No one recovers from the disease of being born, a deadly wound if there ever was one.

Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.

Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it.

What do you do from morning to night?" "I endure myself.

There is no limit to suffering.

The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.