And, along with all the other great unfortunates, I've always believed it better to think than to live.
Of having forgotten the colour of loves and the taste of hatreds. We thought we were immortal.
Only what we dream is what we truly are, because all the rest, all that has been realized, belongs to the world and to everyone.
It's the fact that in all this — sky, earth, world — there is never anything but myself!
In sexual love we seek our own pleasure via another body. In non-sexual love, we seek our own pleasure via our own idea. The masturbator may be abject, but in point of fact he's the perfect logical expression of the lover. He's the only one who doesn't feign and doesn't fool himself.
To attain the satisfactions of the mystic state without having to endure its rigours; to be the ecstatic follower of no god, the mystic or epopt* with no initiation; to pass the days meditating on a paradise you don't believe in – all of this tastes good to the soul that knows what it means to know nothing.