I stand on the end platform of the tram and am completely unsure of my footing in this world, in this town, in my family. Not even casually could I indicate any claims that I might rightly advance in any direction. I have not even any defense to offer for standing on this platform, holding on to this strap, letting myself be carried along by this tram, nor for the people who give way to the tram or walk quietly along or stand gazing into shop windows. Nobody asks me to put up a defense, indeed, but that is irrelevant.

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

I am a cage, in search of a bird.

A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.

The Bible is a sanctum; the world, sputum.