Trees Are Massacred, Houses Go Up —

All The Concessions We Make To Eros Are Holes In Our Desire For The Absolute.

The Obsession With Suicide Is Characteristic Of The Man Who Can Neither Live Nor Die, And Whose Attention Never Swerves From This Double Impossibility.

The Mind Is The Result Of The Torments The Flesh Undergoes Or Inflicts Upon Itself.

All That Shimmers On The Surface Of The World, All That We Call Interesting, Is The Fruit Of Ignorance And Inebriation.

It Is Enough For Me To Hear Someone Talk Sincerely About Ideals, About The Future, About Philosophy, To Hear Him Say “we" With A Certain Inflection Of Assurance, To Hear Him Invoke "others" And Regard Himself As Their Interpreter - For Me To Consider Him My Enemy.