The fact that our task is exactly commensurate with our life gives it the appearance of being infinite.

A book should serve as an axe to the ice inside us.

I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

I’m doing badly, I’m doing well; whichever you prefer.

it was like this. the brain could no longer bear the worries and pains that were imposed on it. it said: "i'm giving up; but if there is anyone else here who is interested in preserving the whole, let him assume part of my burden and it will be alright for a bit.

Hiding places there are innumerable, escape is only one, but possibilities of escape, again, are as many as hiding places.