I am a retiring, silent, unsociable, and discontent person.

Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.

I have spent my life resisting the desire to end it.

From outside one will always triumphantly impress theories upon the world and then fall straight into the ditch one has dug, but only from inside will one keep oneself and the world quiet and true.

In me, by myself, without human relationship, there are no visible lies. The limited circle is pure.

Writing is a sweet, wonderful reward.

The truth is always an abyss. One must — as in a swimming pool — dare to dive from the quivering springboard of trivial everyday experience and sink into the depths, in order to later rise again — laughing and fighting for breath — to the now doubly illuminated surface of things.