In the end, every hypochondriac is his own prophet.
We are all old-timers, each of us holds a locked razor.
It's the light of the oncoming train.
If youth is a defect, it is one we outgrow too soon.
The world is absolutely out of control now and is not going to be saved by any reason or unreason.
Sometimes nothing is so solid to me as writing - I suppose that's what a vocation means - at times a torment, a bad conscience, but all in all, purpose and direction.