To think new thoughts you have to break the bones in your head
Photographs are not ideas. They give us ideas.
This desire [to write] is rather strange all the same and is not without a certain "cracked" quality.
Hell is for other people.
Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that's all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.
My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.