Art is for the artist is only suffering through which he releases himself for further suffering.

The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired. Only after death, only in solitude, does a man’s true nature emerge. In death, as on the chimney sweep’s Saturday night, the soot gets washed from his body.

The more horses you yoke the quicker everything will go - not the rending of the block from its foundation, which is impossible, but the snapping of the traces and with that the gay and empty journey.

Adam's first domestic pet after the expulsion from Paradise was the serpent.

there is nothing bad to fear; once you have crossed that threshold, all is well. Another world, and you do not have to speak

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

What is written is merely the dregs of experience.