Doubt works deep within you like a disease or, even more effectively, like a faith.
To have committed every crime but that of being a father.
Our first intuitions are the true ones.
Woes and wonders of power, that tonic hell, synthesis of poison and panacea.
You cannot protect your solitude if you cannot make yourself odious.
A decadent civilization compromises with its disease, cherishes the virus infecting it, loses its self-respect.