Wisdom disguises our wounds; it teaches us how to bleed in secret.
Where are my sensations? They have melted into... me, and what is this me, this self, but the sum of these evaporated sensations?
Between the demand to be clear,and the temptation to be obscure, impossible to decide which deserves more respect.
No position is so false as having understood and still remaining alive.
Torment, for some men, is a need, an appetite, and an accomplishment.
The task of the solitary man is to be even more solitary.