And I was incapable of living all by myself in those lodgings where I didn't know a soul. It terrified me to sit by myself quietly in my room. I felt frightened, as if I might be set upon or struck by someone at any moment.

I like roses best. But they bloom in all four seasons. I wonder if people who like roses best have to die four times over again.

The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness

As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.

Mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.

What frightened me was the logic of the world; in it lay the foretaste of something incalculably powerful. Its mechanism was incomprehensible, and I could not possibly remain closeted in that windowless, bone-chilling room. Though outside lay the sea of irrationality, it was far more agreeable to swim in its waters until presently I drowned.

Last year nothing happened The year before nothing happened And the year before that nothing happened.