When I was young, I could bounce back from things like a brand-new rubber ball.

Mankind, which has always been a part of nature, has reached a point where it is too much for nature to accommodate.

The thorn of death falls from heaven, and its myriad forms leave us no room to move.

Yet there seemed to be some truth in the law of probability, according to which the chance of success is directly proportionate to the number of repetitions.

Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.

Now that you are dead, you are splendid. Photographs of people who have just died are worth twenty percent more, and for suicides there is an additional five percent. Now that you are dead you are much in demand.

Many people ask why a writer commits suicide. But I think that people who ask don't know the vanity and the nothingness of writing. I think it is very usual and natural for a writer to commit suicide, because in order to keep on writing he must be a very strong person.