Enough to know no knowing.

All that is active, all that is enveloped in time and space, is endowed with what might be described as an abstract, ideal and absolute impermeability.

Suffering is the main condition of the artistic experience.

Until the day when, your endurance gone, in this world for you without arms, you catch up in yours the first mangy cur you meet, carry it for the time needed for it to love it and you it, then throw it away.

In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg. Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?

It is suicide to be abroad. But what it is to be at home, ... what it is to be at home? A lingering dissolution.

That double-headed monster of damnation and salvation--Time.