What Is That One Crucifixion Compared To

Hungarian Language — Savage It May Be But Of A Beauty That Has Nothing Human About It, With Sonorities Of Another Universe, Powerful And Corrosive, Appropriate To Prayer, To Groans And To Tears, Risen Out Of Hell To Perpetuate Its Accent And Its Aura…words Of Nectar And Cyanide.

When Every Man Has Realized That His Birth Is A Defeat, Existence, Endurable At Last, Will Seem Like The Day After A Surrender, Like The Relief And The Repose Of The Conquered.

Once You See That Everything Is Unreal, You Can't See Why You Should Bother To Prove It.

The Desire To Die Was My One And Only Concern; To It I Have Sacrificed Everything, Even Death.

Our Works, Whatever They May Be, Derive From Our Incapacity To Kill Or To Kill Ourselves.