Human thought, flying on the trapezes of the star-filled universe, with mathematics stretched beneath, was like an acrobat working with a net but suddenly noticing that in reality there is no net.
All the information I have about myself is from forged documents.
Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.
The day, like the previous days, dragged sluggishly by in a kind of insipid idleness, devoid even of that dreamy expectancy which can make idleness so enchanting.
Mnemosyne, one must admit, has shown herself to be a very careless girl.
We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo.
There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child.
I see nothing for the treatment of my misery but the melancholy and very local palliative of articulate art.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.
There was no Lo to behold.
My heart was a hysterical unreliable organ.
Life is a message scribbled in the dark.
Perhaps if the future existed, concretely and individually, as something that could be discerned by a better brain, the past would not be so seductive: its demands would be balanced by those of the future.
He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.
The tiny madman in his padded cell.
All religions are based on obsolete terminology.
The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.
Because you took advantage of my disadvantage.
And what is death, if not a face at peace – its artistic perfection.
Although I could never get used to the constant state of anxiety in which the guilty, the great, and the tenderhearted live, I felt I was doing my best in the way of mimicry.