Life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do. Often — and in my inmost self perhaps all the time — I doubt whether I am a human being.

Follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.

A belief is like a guillotine, just as heavy, just as light.

I am in chains. Don't touch my chains.

People who walk across dark bridges, past saints, with dim, small lights. Clouds which move across gray skies past churches with towers darkened in the dusk. One who leans against granite railing gazing into the evening waters, His hands resting on old stones.

Just because your doctor has a name for your condition, doesn't mean he knows what it is.

If I shall exist eternally, how shall I exist tomorrow?