“For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.”

She always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day.

But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people.

I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual.

And yet, the only exciting life is the imaginary one.

I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me. I need not flatter any man; he has nothing to give me.

Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.

Arrange whatever pieces come your way.

Consolation for those moments when you can’t tell whether you’re the divinest genius or the greatest fool in the world.

Moments like this are buds on the tree of life. Flowers of darkness they are.

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.

There is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.

But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful.

The depths of the sea are only water after all.

We can best help you to prevent war not by repeating your words and following your methods but by finding new words and creating new methods.

Illness is a part of every human being’s experience. It enhances our perceptions and reduces self-consciousness. It is the great confessional; things are said, truths are blurted out which health conceals.

There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, ‘Consume me

Sometimes the world buries me but flowers can grow only from beneath.

It’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

I’ve read that if an avalanche buries you and you’re lying there underneath all that snow, you can’t tell which way is up or down. You want to dig yourself out but pick the wrong way, and you dig yourself to your own demise.

Don’t get buried in the thick of thin things.

Time doesn’t heal all the wounds: it buries them.

May your lips convey, what your heart has buried in.- A one-sided lover