For days we slept wakefully, content to be nothing, to have no desires or hopes, to have forgotten the color of love or the taste of hatred.
I've always rejected being understood. To be understood is to prostitute oneself. I prefer to be taken seriously for what I'm not, remaining humanly unknown, with naturalness and all due respect.
Freedom would mean rest, artistic achievement, the intellectual fulfillment of my being.
What once was moral is now, for us, aesthetic … What was social is now individual.
Having seen how lucidly and logically certain madmen justify their lunatic ideas to themselves and to others, I can never again be sure of the lucidness of my lucidity.
I'm the empty stage where various actors act out various plays.