All language is but a poor translation.

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

I wanted to escape the unrest, to shut out the voices around me and within me, so I write.

Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty.

I am free and that is why I am lost.

A stair not worn hollow by footsteps is, regarded from its own point of view, only a boring something made of wood.

Leop­ards break in­to the tem­ple and drink all the sac­ri­fi­cial ves­sels dry; it keeps hap­pen­ing; in the end, it can be cal­cu­lat­ed in ad­vance and is in­cor­po­rat­ed in­to the rit­ual.