It was all a lie, it all stank, stank of lies, it all gave the illusion of meaning and happiness and beauty, and all of it was just putrefaction that no one would admit to. Bitter was the taste of the world. Life was a torment.

The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. The God's name is Abraxas.

The bourgeois today burns as heretics and hangs as criminals those to whom he erects monuments tomorrow.

The cup was emptied and would never be filled again.

I can think. I can wait. I can fast.

our friendship has no other purpose, no other reason, than to show you how utterly unlike me you are.

All men of goodwill have this in common - that our works put us to shame.