There Are Metaphors More Real Than The

Being Tired Of All Illusions And Of Everything About Illusions – The Loss Of Illusions, The Uselessness Of Having Them, The Prefatigue Of Having To Have Them In Order To Lose Them, The Sadness Of Having Had Them, The Intellectual Shame Of Having Had Them Knowing That They Would Have To End This Way.

I Never Was But An Isolated Bon Vivant, Which Is Absurd; Or A Mystic Bon Vivant, Which Is An Impossible Thing.

To Think Is To Destroy.

I Never Go To Where's A Risk. I'm Frightened Of Dangers Down To Boredom.

To Be Understood Is To Prostitute Oneself