The dusk was performing its customary intransitive operation of "gathering".

Hell goes round and round. In shape it is circular, and by nature it is interminable, repetitive, and nearly unbearable.

Strange enlightenments are vouchsafed to those who seek the higher places.

I am completely half afraid to think.

When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence. Why have men spent the centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body? Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep.

Another day gone and no jokes.

The first beginnings of wisdom...is to ask questions but never to answer any.