I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am.

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I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; Garlands from window to window; Golden chains from star to star ... And I dance.

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By being too sensitive I have wasted my life.

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But the problem is to make the soul into a monster

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But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

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I shed more tears than God could ever have required.

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I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.

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A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

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Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.

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Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

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