[T]he syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?

But I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.

I, of whom I know nothing, I know my eyes are open, because of the tears that pour from them unceasingly.

To restore silence is the role of objects.

The end of a life is always vivifying.

If I was dead, I wouldn't know I was dead. That's the only thing I have against death. I want to enjoy my death.