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?

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

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.

I have heard unsavory rumors about you and the umbrella-maker's daughter

A man sometimes devotes his life to a desire which he is not sure will ever be fulfilled. Those who laugh at this folly are, after all, no more than mere spectators of life.

I may be a lunatic, but then, wasn't my lunacy caused by a monster that lurks at the bottom of every human mind? Those who call me a madman and spurn me may become lunatics tomorrow. They harbor the same monster.