In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears.
We sometimes find truth, but more often it finds us.
No need to be sentimental to mourn the loss of Paradise.
Asceticism without religion is just another way of cultivating peculiar sensations.
Dirty old men, ignoring society, continue to follow nature.
Lovers never want to say "I love you" at the same moment. Hence all the love stories.