I am more uncertain than I ever was; I feel only the power of life. And I am senselessly empty.

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.

Photography concentrates one's eye on the superficial. For that reason it obscures the hidden life which glimmers through the outlines of things like a play of light and shade. One can't catch that even with the sharpest lens.

Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.

From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.

No one can crave what truly harms him.