My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more...
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My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but not...
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And with a relentlessness that comes from the world's depths, with a persistence that strikes the keys metaphysically, the scales of a piano student k...
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To have opinions is to sell out to yourself. To have no opinion is to exist. To have every opinion is to be a poet.
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My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I he...
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Wise is the man who has the potential for height in his muscles but who renounces climbing in his consciousness. By virtue of his gaze, he has all hil...
