The power of death signifies that this real world can only have a neutral image of life, that life's intimacy does not reveal it's dazzling consumption until the moment it gives out.

We did not lack modesty—on the contrary—but something urgently drove us to defy modesty together as immodestly as possible.

Sacrifice is nothing other than the production of sacred things.

Naturally, love's the most distant possibility.

What does physical eroticism signify if not a violation of the very being of its practitioners? – A violation bordering on death, bordering on murder?

Though the immediate impression of rebellion may obscure the fact, the task of authentic literature is nevertheless only conceivable in terms of a desire for fundamental communication with the reader.

Thought does not ennoble us and neither does it differentiate humans from other animals.