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

There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.

We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.

Hold fast to the diary from today on! Write regularly! Don't surrender! Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it every moment.

What am I doing here in this endless winter?

All science is methodolgy with regard to the Absolute. Therefore, there need be no fear of the unequivocally methodological. It isa husk, but not more than everything except the One.

How pathetically scanty my self-knowledge is compared with, say, my knowledge of my room. There is no such thing as observation of the inner world, as there is of the outer world.