Is there no way out of the mind?
We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting.
Without literature, life is hell.
No one here gets out alive.
Human life must be some form of mistake.
I don’t know how to live well. I only know how to suffer.
This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
This is your life and its ending one moment at a time.
Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.
Why am I dying to live if I’m just living to die.
You want to live-but do you know how to live? You are scared of dying-and, tell me, is the kind of life you lead really any different from being dead?
The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that.
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
I feel much better, now that I’ve given up hope.
It could be that the purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others.
I didn’t cause it. I can’t control it. I can’t cure it.
There, where I have passed, the grass will never grow again.
Acceptance is the only way out of hell.
In much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse.