There are two cardinal human sins out of which all others derive, deviate, and dissipate: impatience and lassitude (or perhaps nonchalance). On account of impatience they are driven out of paradise; on account of lassitude or nonchalance they do not return. Perhaps, however, only one main sense of sin is given: impatience. On account of impatience they are driven out, on account of impatience they do not turn back.

Our art is a way of being dazzled by truth: the light on the grotesquely grimacing retreating face is true, and nothing else.

There's an infinite amount of hope but not for us.

Writers speak stench.

sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty.

Written kisses don't reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.

Do not waste your time looking for an obstacle - maybe there is none.