Surely every one realizes, at some point along the way, that he is capable of living a far better life than the one he has chosen.
Seeking, knowing, discovering, enjoying- these faculties or powers are pale and lifeless without realization.
What holds the world together, as I have learned from bitter experience, is sexual intercourse.
I stood before a mirror and said fearfully: I want to see how I look in the mirror with my eyes closed.
The great incestuous wish is to flow on, one with time, to merge the great image of the beyond with the here and now. A fatuous, suicidal wish that is constipated by words and paralyzed by thought.
What is not in the open street is false, derived, that is to say, literature.