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

Decadence is the total loss of unconsciousness, which is the very basis of life. Could it think, the heart would stop beating.

Ser compreendido é prostituir-se.

If this be to have sense, if to be awake Be but to see this bright, great sleep of things, For the rarer potion mine own dreams I'll take And for truth commune with imaginings

I asked for very little from life, and even this little was denied me.

I crave time in all its duration, and I want to be myself unconditionally.

And leaning out the window, enjoying the day above the varying volume of the entire city, only one thought swells my soul – the intimate will to die, to finish, not to see more light over any city, not to think, not to feel, to leave behind like wrapping paper the course of the sun and the days, to rid myself, at the edge of the grand bed, as of a heavy suit, of the involuntary effort to be.