The quality of my life was the quality of my questions.

To whom shall I hire myself out? What beast should I adore? What holy image is attacked? What hearts shall I break? What lies shall I uphold? In what blood tread?

Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.

Goals are like magnets. They'll attract the things that make them come true.

What an old maid I'm getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

True alchemy lies in this formula: Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse.

Morality is the weakness of the mind.

I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable$$$ I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.

By being too sensitive$$$ I have wasted my life.