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

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

I never imagined that so many days would ultimately make such a small life.

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

There is a down-and-outness under true knowledge and a childlike happy arising from it.

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.

He is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived.