Every dog has like me the impulse to question, and I have like every dog the impulse not to answer.

There is a goal but no way; what we call the way is mere wavering.

But eternity is not temporality at a standstill. What is oppressive about the concept of the eternal is the justification, incomprehensible to us, that time must undergo in eternity and the logical conclusion of that, the justification of ourselves as we are.

If the literature we are reading does not wake us, why then do we read it? A literary work must be an ice-axe to break the sea frozen inside us.

There is a destination but no way there; what we refer to as way is hesitation.

The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred.

All language is but a poor translation.