Misfortune was my god.
I’m intact, and I don’t give a damn.
Romanticism has never been properly judged. Who was there to judge it? The critics!
I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.
But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
Morality is the weakness of the brain.
I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.
I is another.
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.
I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.
Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.