In summer, intolerable closeness; in winter, unendurable cold. All the floors were rotten. Filth on the floors an inch thick; one could slip and fall.

Life is what matters, life alone - the continuous, eternal process of discovering life - and not the discovery itself.

Sometimes a man is intensely, even passionately, attached to suffering — that is a fact.

And yet I am convinced that man will never give up true suffering- that is, destruction and chaos. Why, suffering is the sole root of consciousness.

Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will follow you.

Everything passes, only truth remains.

Now I'm living out my life in a corner, trying to console myself with the stupid, useless excuse that an intelligent man cannot turn himself into anything, that only a fool can make anything he wants out of himself.