I've never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.

These pages are not my confession; they’re my definition. And I feel, as I begin to write it, that I can write it with some semblance of truth.

Ah, it's my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me!

Nature is the difference between the soul and God.

If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.

I take with me the conscience of defeat as a victory banner.

Look, there's no metaphysics on earth but chocolates.