“But the problem is to make the soul into a monster”

And I am still alive-what though, my damnation is eternal. A man who deliberately mutilates himself is truly damned, is he not? I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am.

O seasons, O castles, What soul is without flaws? All its lore is known to me, Felicity, it enchants us all.

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.

What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?

Come from forever, and you will go everywhere.

Faith assuages, guides, restores.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.

The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.

Weakness or strength: you exist, that is strength. You don’t know where you are going or why you are going, go in everywhere, answer everyone. No one will kill you, any more than if you were a corpse.

Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.

Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

Yet this is the watch by night. Let us all accept new strength, and real tenderness. And at dawn, armed with glowing patience, we will enter the cities of glory.

Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.

It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.

Man is not by nature a tyrant, but becomes a tyrant by power conferred on him.

I wanted the monster back and that was plainly wrong.

It is not the slumber of reason that engenders monsters, but vigilant and insomniac rationality

The Loch Ness monster doesn’t exist either. Loch Ness is just not big enough to hide a thirty foot amphibian or reptile for hundreds of years.

See I’m not a monster, I’m just ahead of the curve.

Tasteless is a life without your courage, for courage is the salt to your bread. So dare, dare to stare that monster in the eye, that fear that fiddles under your bed.

Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster that devours everything: familiarity.

I want to be a monster too.