It makes me realise that the fantasy of nature is much larger than my own fantasy. I still have things to learn.

How easily the routine of sin establishes itself.

I have found that words that are loaded with pathos and create a seductive euphoria are apt to promote nonsense.

What I do is sometimes - at least in Germany - met with wounding campaigns. I always face the question: should I grow myself a thick skin and ignore it, or should I let myself be wounded? I've decided to be wounded, since, if I grew a thick skin, there are other things I wouldn't feel any more.

I did not volunteer for the Waffen SS, but was, as were thousands of my year group, conscripted. I did not then know as a 17-year-old that it was a criminal unit. I thought it was an elite unit.

As a child I was a great liar. Fortunately my mother liked my lies. I promised her marvelous things.

And when the sun goes down and the mood comes upon me, I'll watch the play of the colors on the water, yield to the fleetly dissolving images, and turn into pure feeling, all soft and nice.