Evil Is Whatever Distracts.

Just Think How Many Thoughts A Blanket Smothers While One Lies Alone In Bed, And How Many Unhappy Dreams It Keeps Warm.

Evil Is The Starry Sky Of The Good.

Art Is For The Artist Is Only Suffering Through Which He Releases Himself For Further Suffering.

At That Point I Asked Myself: How Is It That She Is Not Amazed At Herself, That She Keeps Her Lips Closed And Makes No Such Remark?

Writer Speaks A Stench.