Nobody on the outside, no, not even God himself, knows what a man suffers on the inside. There’s no language to convey it. It’s beyond all human comprehension. It’s so vast, so wide, so deep that even the angels with all their powers of understanding and all their powers of locomotion could never explore the whole of it.

The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we’re passing one another without a look of recognition.

The woman will sit eternally in the tall black armchair. I will be the one woman you will never have ... excessive living weighs down the imagination: we will not live, we will only write and talk to swell the sails.

"Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."

Solo, despavorido y con una tremenda añoranza vacía. Toda la habitación para mis pensamientos. Solo yo y lo que pienso, lo que temo. Podría pensar las cosas más fantásticas, podría bailar, escupir, hacer muecas, blasfemar, gemir... nadie lo sabría nunca, nadie lo oiría nunca. La idea de una intimidad tan absoluta es suficiente para volverme loco.
El tiempo a tu disposición. Cada segundo pesa sobre ti como una montaña. Te ahogas en él. Desiertos, mares, lagos, océanos. El tiempo que pasa golpeando como un cuchillo de carnicero. La nada. El mundo. El yo y el no-yo. Umaharumuma. Todo debe tener un nombre. Todo debe aprenderse, probarse, experimentarse. Faites comme chez vous, chéri.