Abstinence Is The Worst Form Of Perversion.

Sometimes Our Thoughts Turn Back Toward A Corner In A Forest, Or The End Of A Bank, Or An Orchard Powdered With Flowers, Seen But A Single Time On Some Happy Day, Yet Remaining In Our Hearts And Leaving In Soul And Body An Unappeased Desire Which Is Not To Be Forgotten, A Feeling That We Have Just Rubbed Elbows With Happiness.

We Are Accustomed To Use Our Eyes Only With The Memory Of What Other People Before Us Have Thought About The Object We Are Looking At.

War! When I But Think Of This Word, I Feel Bewildered, As Though They Were Speaking To Me Of Sorcery, Of The Inquisition, Of A Distant, Finished, Abominable, Monstrous, Unnatural Thing. When They Speak To Us Of Cannibals, We Smile Proudly, As We Proclaim Our Superiority To These Savages. Who Are The Real Savages? Those Who Struggle In Order To Eat Those Whom They Vanquish, Or Those Who Struggle Merely To Kill?

I Have Coveted Everything And Taken Pleasure In Nothing

I Go To Bed, And I Wait For Sleep As A Man Might Wait For The Executioner. I Wait For Its Coming With Dread, And My Heart Beats And My Legs Tremble, While My Whole Body Shivers Beneath The Warmth Of The Bedclothes, Until The Moment When I Suddenly Fall Asleep, As A Man Throws Himself Into A Pool Of Stagnant Water In Order To Drown. I Do Not Feel This Perfidious Sleep Coming Over Me As I Used To, But A Sleep Which Is Close To Me And Watching Me, Which Is Going To Seize Me By The Head, To Close My Eyes And Annihilate Me.