Not One Moment When I Have Not

Utopia Is The Grotesque En Rose, The Need To Associate Happiness - That Is, The Improbable - With Becoming, And To Coerce An Optimistic, Aerial Vision To The Point Where It Rejoins Its Own Source: The Very Cynicism It Sought To Combat. In Short, A Monstrous Fantasy.

Every Profound Dissatisfaction Is Of A Religious Nature: Our Failures Derive From Our Incapacity To Conceive Of Paradise And To Aspire To It, As Our Discomforts From The Fragility Of Our Relations With The Absolute.

After Having Struggled Madly To Solve All Problems, After Having Suffered On The Heights Of Despair, In The Supreme Hour Of Revelation, You Will Find That The Only Answer, The Only Reality, Is Silence.

By What Aberration Has Suicide, The Only Truly Normal Action, Become The Attribute Of The Flawed?

I Seem To Myself, Among Civilized Men, An Intruder, A Troglodyte Enamored Of Decrepitude, Plunged Into Subversive Prayers.