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.

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.

To be a friend of the weak-that is the artist's point of departure as well as his ultimate goal.

I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind-of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.

Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.Everything passes.That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.Everything passes.

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.

Labeled a delinquent. That's the only kind of label I want to be crucified under.