Man spends a great deal of time making order out of chaos, yet insists that the emotions be disordered. I order my emotions: I am insane.

It is hard to laugh at the need for beauty and romance, no matter how tasteless, even horrible, the results of that need are. But it is easy to sigh. Few things are sadder than the truly monstrous.

He thought of how calm he was. His calm was so perfect that he could not destroy it even by being conscious of it.

Crowds of people moved through the streets with a dream-like violence.

Only those who still have hope can benefit from tears. When they finish, they feel better. But to those without hope, whose anguish is basic and permanent, no good comes from crying. Nothing changes for them. They usually know this, but still can’t help crying.

Like a dead man, only friction could make him warm or violence make him mobile.

Let him ride a horse. He's a cowboy ain't he?