My job is unbearable to me because it conflicts with my only desire and my only calling, which is literature. Since I am nothing but literature and can and want to be nothing else, my job will never take possession of me, it may, however, shatter me completely, and this is by no means a remote possibility.

But what if all the tranquility, all the comfort, all the contentment were now to come to a horrifying end?

We were expelled from Paradise, but it was not destroyed. The expulsion from Paradise was in one sense a piece of good fortune, for if we had not been expelled, Paradise would have had to be destroyed.

The mediation by the serpent was necessary. Evil can seduce man, but cannot become man.

There is a destination but no way there; what we refer to as way is hesitation.

Going to pieces. To go to pieces so pointlessly and unnecessarily.

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.