I'm a man for whom the outside world is an inner Reality.

To think is to destroy. The very process of thought indicates it for the same thought, as thinking is decomposing.

I'm something that I used to be. I'm never where I feel I am, and if I seek myself, I don't know who's seeking me. My boredom with everything has numbed me. I feel banished from my soul.

The startling reality of things is my discovery every single day.

There's a non-existent peace in the uncertain quietness

...the painful intensity of my sensations, even when they're happy ones; the blissful intensity of my sensations, even when they're sad.

It's in an inland sea that the river of my life ended.