I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

I am a cage, in search of a bird.

I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.

It is comforting to reflect that the disproportion of things in the world seems to be only arithmetical.

Some deny the existence of misery by pointing to the sun; he denies the existence of the sun by pointing to misery.

There has never been a time in which I have been convinced from within myself that I am alive. You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away. I have a constant longing, my dear sir, to catch a glimpse of things as they may have been before they show themselves to me.

A lawyer is a person who writes a 10,000-word document and calls it a "brief."