The Real Question Is How Much Suffering

My Decision To View The World Through Novels, As It Were, Which Is A Typically European Way Of Looking At Things, Became A Heavy Burden For Me. But I Took It On Consciously, Even Though It Was Torture For Me.

Sometimes I Sensed That The Books I Read In Rapid Succession Had Set Up Some Sort Of Murmur Among Themselves, Transforming My Head Into An Orchestra Pit Where Different Musical Instruments Sounded Out, And I Would Realize That I Could Endure This Life Because Of These Musicales Going On In My Head.

If We Give What We Treasure Most To A Being We Love With All Our Hearts, If We Can Do That Without Expecting Anything In Return, Then The World Becomes A Beautiful Place.

I Am Nothing But A Corpse Now, A Body At The Bottom Of A Well.

I Very Much Enjoy Reading Other Writers' Diaries, Mainly Because It Makes Me Ask Myself: Are They Like You? How Do They Think?