No One Ever Lacks A Good Reason

Reality Is A Prison, Where One Vegetates And Always Will.

One Does Not Kill Oneself For Love Of A Woman, But Because Love - Any Love - Reveals Us In Our Nakedness, Our Misery, Our Vulnerability, Our Nothingness.

What We Desire Is Not To Possess A Woman, But To Be The Only One To Possess Her.

A Consoling Thought: What Matters Is Not What We Do, But The Spirit In Which We Do It. Others Suffer Too; So Much So That There Is Nothing In The World But Suffering; The Problem Is Simply To Keep A Clear Conscience.

The Problem Is Not The Harshness Of Fate, For Anything We Want Strongly Enough We Get. The Trouble Is Rather That When We Have It We Grow Sick Of It, And Then We Should Never Blame Fate, Only Our Own Desire.