If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.

And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept.

Dear incomprehension, it's thanks to you I'll be myself, in the end.

But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything.

God is a witness that cannot be sworn.

Love requited is a short circuit.

The reality of the individualis an incoherent reality and must be expressed incoherently.