Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence... someone might possibly have escaped from their singing; but from their silence, certainly never.

My peers, lately, have found companionship through means of intoxication - it makes them sociable. I, however, cannot force myself to use drugs to cheat on my loneliness - it is all that I have - and when the drugs and alcohol dissipate, will be all that my peers have as well.

Anybody who preserves the ability to recognize beauty will never get old.

Time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible, then one must try to wriggle through by subtle manoeuvres.

In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it.

In the fight between you and the world, back the world.

A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.