My dreams are a stupid refuge, like an umbrella against a thunderbolt.
I was a poet animated by philosophy, not a philosopher with poetic faculties.
The beauty of a naked body is felt only by the dressed races.
Ah, what a morning this is, awakening me to life's stupidity. [98 - Zenith trans.]
I look at myself but I'm missing. I know myself: it’s not me.
Never read a book to the end, nor even in sequence and without skipping.