Is there really nothing, nothing left of me?

So it comes to this; one doesn’t need rest. Why bother about sleep if one isn’t sleepy? That stands to reason, doesn’t it? Wait a minute, there’s a snag somewhere; something disagreeable. Why, now, should it be disagreeable? …Ah, I see; it’s life without a break.

There are photographers who push for war because they make stories. They search for a Chinese who has a more Chinese are than the others and they end up finding one. They have him take a typically Chinese pose and surround him with chinoiseries. What have they captured on their film? A Chinese? Definitely not: the idea of the Chinese.

One of the chief motives of artistic creation is certainly the need of feeling that we are essential in relationship to the world.

What is life but an unpleasant interruption to a peaceful nonexistence.

Outside nature, against nature, without excuse, beyond remedy, except what remedy I find within myself.

One could only damage oneself through the harm one did to others. One could never get directly at oneself.