It Would Be Wrong To Refuse To

The Only Friends I Have Are The Dead Who Have Bequeathed Their Writings To Me — I Have No Others.

People Keep A Dog And Are Ruled By This Dog, And Even Schopenhauer Was Ruled In The End Not By His Head, But By His Dog. This Fact Is More Depressing Than Any Other.

Women Were Like Rivers, Their Banks Were Unreachable, The Night Often Rang With The Cries Of The Drowned.

Only When I Am By Seawater Can I Truly Breathe, To Say Nothing Of My Ability To Think.

All Of Living Is Nothing But A Fervid Attempt To Move Closer Together.