Writers speak stench.

All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.

The Expulsion from Paradise is eternal in its principal aspect: this makes it irrevocable, and our living in this world inevitable, but the eternal nature of the process has the effect that not only could we remain forever in Paradise, but that we are currently there, whether we know it or not.

He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.

There is a goal but no way; what we call the way is mere wavering.

Don't despair, not even over the fact that you don't despair.

I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.