An Immense hatred keeps me alive... i would live for a thousand years if i were certain of seeing the whole world croak.

I crawled back into myself all alone, just delighted to observe that I was even more miserable than before, because I had brought a new kind of distress and something that resembled true feeling into my solitude.

Love, Arthur, is a poodle's chance of attaining the infinite, and personally I have my pride.

The whole business of your life overwhelms you when you live alone. One's stupefied by it. To get rid of it you try to daub some of it off on to people who come to see you, and they hate that. To be alone trains one for death.

I was a hundred-percent sick, I felt as if I had no further use for my legs, they just hung over the edge of my bed like unimportant and rather ridiculous objects.

To hell with reality! I want to die in music, not in reason or in prose.

The more one is hated, I find, the happier one is.