“There were two ways of looking at it: imagining that it was far away and big, in the first place; in the second, that it was small and near. But at any rate, a stupid, hard, brown mountain. How she...”

“but the crime is more important than the punishment. I enliven all of me in my happy instinct for destruction.”

“I ask myself: is every story that has ever been written in this world, a story of suffering and affliction?”

“In the world there exists no aesthetic plane, not even the aesthetic plane of goodness.”

“Where does music go when its not playing?she asked herself. And disarmed she would answer: May they make a harp out of my nerves when I die.”

“I have grown weary of literature: silence alone comforts me. If I continue to write, its because I have nothing more to accomplish in this world except to wait for death. Searching for the word in ...”

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of wi...”

“My dear,Find what you love and let it kill you.Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.Let it kill you and let it devour your remains....”

“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?”

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

“The road to hell is paved with adverbs.”