We all have wings, but they have not been of any avail to us and if we could tear them off, we would do so.
I’m doing badly, I’m doing well; whichever you prefer.
There is a goal but no way; what we call the way is mere wavering.
Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.
My life was sweeter than other people's and my death will be more terrible by the same degree.
The fact that our task is exactly commensurate with our life gives it the appearance of being infinite.