Writers speak stench.

I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.

It is only our conception of time that makes us call the Last Judgement by this name. It is, in fact, a kind of martial law.

Now I can look at you in peace; I don't eat you any more.

For everything outside the phenomenal world, language can only be used allusively, but never even approximately in a comparative way, since, corresponding as it does to the phenomenal world, it is concerned only with property and its relations.

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

Faith, like a guillotine. As heavy, as light.