‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍heaven—sent ;

come on, everyone, let's tear into each other!

if i were to be totally sincere, i would say that i do not know why i live and why i do not stop living.

all hope vanishes in vain.

life as a long agony on the road to death is nothing but another manifestation of life's demonical dialects, in which forms are given birth only to be destroyed.

these lines were written today, april 8, 1933, when i turn twenty-two. it is strange to think that i am already a specialist in the question of death.

i have no feeling either for the future or for the past, while the present seems to me poison.

fold your wings and rest.

don't act like you made yourself easy to love. you aren't a daisy. you don't feel loved by being stared at.

it's a sin that i'm still alive.

i despise those who scoff at suicides committed for love, because they do not understand that, to the lover, unfulfilled love is the cancellation of his being, a destructive plunge into nothingness.

he and his eleven legions were overwhelmed, and the parthians, hearing of crassus' motive, laughed as they poured molten gold into the dead general's mouth, saying: 'thou hast thirsted for gold, therefore drink gold.'

sanity is a valuable possession; i hoard it in the way people once hoarded money. i save it, so i will have enough, when the time comes.

…do you believe in god? not gods, but 'god.' do you believe in 'the one' that exists beyond you? no matter your belief: god is real. and, god is dead.

no effort, no hope, no illusion can satisfy you any longer.

i will remember you always, until my life is exhausted.

revenge is merely an obligation that must be carried out, and no one can find mental fulfilment through it.

this is a study of my own inadequacy. ( no, it isn't. this is a study of my humanity. )

all of us used to be so innocent, but somehow, we were typecast as monsters.

find me, before i eat myself.

but it is surely crippling to limp along, so out of step with the lofty gaze you insist on maintaining.