...a Long Struggle Lies In Store For

I Want To Be As Though New-born, Knowing Nothing, Absolutely Nothing About Europe.

One Day I Will Lie Nowhere With An Angel At My Side.

Satire Must Not Be A Kind Of Superfluous Ill Will, But Ill Will From A Higher Point Of View. Ridiculous Man, Divine God. Or Else, Hatred Against The Bogged-down Vileness Of Average Man As Against The Possible Heights That Humanity Might Attain.

Everything Vanishes Around Me, And Works Are Born As If Out Of The Void. Ripe, Graphic Fruits Fall Off. My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

It Is Precisely The Way Which Is Productive - This Is The Essential Thing; Becoming Is More Important Than Being.