Perhaps it's good for one to suffer. Can an artist do anything if he's happy? Would he ever want to do anything? What is art, after all, but a protest against the horrible inclemency of life?
We live together,we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand and hand into the arena; they are crucified alone.
Individual insanity is immune to the consequences of collective insanity.
My fate cannot be mastered; it can only be collaborated with and thereby, to some extent, directed. Nor am I the captain of my soul; I am only its noisiest passenger.
I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin.
I can sympathise with people's pains, but not with their pleasures. There is something curiously boring about somebody else's happiness.