I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.

It's been a long time since I've been me.

Inch by inch I conquered the inner terrain I was born with. Bit by bit I reclaimed the swamp in which I'd languished. I gave birth to my infinite being, but I had to wrench myself out of me with forceps.

Without madness what is man But a wholesome beast, Postponed corpse that begets?

My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.

Life is good, but Wine is better.

Never having discovered qualities in myself which could attract someone else, I could never believe that anyone felt attracted to me.