We Live In The Mind, In Ideas,

I Had A Microscopic Eye For The Blemish, For The Grain Of Ugliness Which To Me Constituted The Sole Beauty Of The Object.

There Is Nothing In Itself Which Is Wrong Or Evil Not Even Murder.

Through Endless Night The Earth Whirls Toward A Creation Unknown.

The History Of The World Is The History Of The Privileged Few.

I Wanted To Die; I Wanted To Surrender Because I Saw No Sense In Struggling. I Felt That Nothing Would Be Proved, Substantiated, Added Or Subtracted By Continuing An Existence Which I Had Not Asked For.