A Writer Never Reads His Work. For

A Story? No. No Stories, Never Again.

My Being Subsists Only From A Supreme Point Of View Which Is Precisely Incompatible With My Point Of View. The Perspective In Which I Fade Away For My Eyes Restores Me As A Complete Image For The Unreal Eye To Which I Deny All Images. A Complete Image With Reference To A World Devoid Of Image Which Imagines Me In The Absence Of Any Imaginable Figure. The Being Of A Nonbeing Of Which I Am The Infinitely Small Negation Which It Instigates As Its Profound Harmony. In The Night Shall I Become The Universe?

Weak Thoughts, Weak Desires: He Felt Their Force.

We Can Never Put Enough Distance Between Ourselves And What We Love. To Think That God Is, Is Still To Think Of Him As Present; This Is A Thought According To Our Measure, Destined Only To Console Us. It Is Much More Fitting To Think That God Is Not, Just As We Must Love Him Purely Enough That We Could Be Indifferent To The Fact That He Should Not Be. It Is For This Reason That The Atheist Is Closer To God Than The Believer.

The Disaster Ruins Everything, All The While Leaving Everything Intact.