At that point I asked myself: How is it that she is not amazed at herself, that she keeps her lips closed and makes no such remark?

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.

In the fight between you and the world, back the world.

I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.

A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.

There are only two things. Truth and lies. Truth is indivisible, hence it cannot recognize itself; anyone who wants to recognize it has to be a lie.

There has never been a time in which I have been convinced from within myself that I am alive. You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away. I have a constant longing, my dear sir, to catch a glimpse of things as they may have been before they show themselves to me.