..he understood far more deeply than anyone else the loneliness that lurked beneath his jaunty mask.

I don't have the strength to keep writing this. To go on living with this feeling is painful beyond description. Isn't there someone kind enough to strangle me in my sleep?

It is unfortunate for the gods that, unlike us, they cannot commit suicide.

I could wish for nothing more than to die for a childish dream in which I truly believed.

I have no conscience at all -- least of all an artistic conscience. All I have is nerves.

Isn't there someone kind enough to come strangle me in my sleep?

I could have sworn that the man's eyes were no longer watching his daughter dying in agony, that instead the gorgeous colors of flames and the sight of a woman suffering in them were giving him joy beyond measure.