The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.

I would like to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers and, generally, persons who move their lips when reading.

I am surrounded by some sort of wretched specters, not by people. They torment me as can torment only senseless visions, bad dreams, dregs of delirium, the drivel of nightmares and everything that passes down here for real life.

I have never seen a more lucid, more lonely, better balanced mad mind than mine.

Beauty plus pity-that is the closest we can get to a definition of art. Where there is beauty there is pity for the simple reason that beauty must die: beauty always dies, the manner dies with the matter, the world dies with the individual.

Who can say what heartbreaks are caused in a dog by our discontinuing a romp?

Let all of life be an unfettered howl.