Sometimes I think I can expiate all my past and future sins through the aching of my bones.

Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.

Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.

Now I can look at you in peace; I don't eat you any more.

and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die.

Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one’s own castle.

They were offered the choice between becoming kings or the couriers of kings. The way children would, they all wanted to be couriers. Therefore there are only couriers who hurry about the world, shouting to each other - since there are no kings - messages that have become meaningless. They would like to put an end to this miserable life of theirs but they dare not because of their oaths of service.