I kept having dreams all night. I thought they were touching me with their fingers. But dreams don't have fingers, they have fists, so it must have been scorpions.

Then he went out without touching anything and put his arm around Ingeborg, and like that, with their arms around each other, they returned to the village while the whole past of the universe fell on their heads.

Nothing happened today. And if anything did, I’d rather not talk about it, because I didn’t understand it.

Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.

Jesus is the masterpiece. The thieves are minor works. Why are they there? Not to frame the crucifixion, as some innocent souls believe, but to hide it.

we interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.

No one pays attention to these killings, but the secret of the world is hidden in them.