There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.

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

As it is with the love of the body, so with the friendship of the mind, the full is only reached by admittance to the most retired places.

The old endless chain of love, tolerance, indifference, aversion and disgust

I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.

Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.

The fact would seem to be, if in my situation one may speak of facts, not only that I shall have to speak of things of which I cannot speak, but also, which is even more interesting, but also that I, which is if possible even more interesting, that I shall have to, I forget, no matter. And at the same time I am obliged to speak. I shall never be silent. Never.