No position is so false as having understood and still remaining alive.
Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.
The multiplication of our kind borders on the obscene; the duty to love them, on the preposterous.
Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself.
Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it.
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.