One is still what one is going to cease to be and already what one is going to become. One lives one's death, one dies one's life.

If I relegate impossible Salvation to the prop room, what remains? A whole man, composed of all men and as good as all of them and no better than any.

I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.

Everything that exists is born for no reason, carries on living through weakness, and dies by accident

My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.

What do I care about Jupiter? Justice is a human issue, and I do not need a god to teach it to me.

If you seek authenticity for authenticity's sake you are no longer authentic.