I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest.
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I am finding myself: it's deadly because only death concludes me. But I bear it until the end. I'll tell you a secret: life is deadly. I'll have to in...
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And now -- now it only remains for me to light a cigarette and go home. Dear God, only now am I remembering that people die. Does that include me?Don'...
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I carry out sun rituals on the slopes of high mountains. But I am also taboo for myself, untouchable because forbidden.
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It’s hard for me to believe that I will die. Because I’m bubbling in a frigid freshness. My life is going to be very long because each instant is. The...
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but the crime is more important than the punishment. I enliven all of me in my happy instinct for destruction.
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What would a person say to himself in the madness of sincerity? But it would be salvation. Thought the terror of sincerity comes from the part of the ...
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I have grown weary of literature: silence alone comforts me. If I continue to write, it’s because I have nothing more to accomplish in this world exce...
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When I think of what I already lived through it seems to me I was shedding my bodies along the paths.
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Long live the dead because we live in them.
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Inside her it was as if death didn’t exist, as if love could weld her, as if eternity were renewal.
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Oh, don't pull your hand away from me, I've promised myself that maybe by the end of this impossible narrative I shall understand, oh maybe it will be...
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Life was taking its vengeance on me, and that vengeance consisted merely in coming back, nothing more. Every case of madness involves something coming...
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I just know that I don't want cheating. I refuse. I deepened myself but I don't believe in myself because my thought is invented.
