Illness Reduces Man To His Basic State:

Life Is Lived Only Once. And The Less Seriously The Better.

No One Can Ever Heap Enough Insults Upon Me To Suit My Taste. I Think We All Really Thrive On Hostility, Because It's The Most Intense Kind Of Massage The Ego Can Undergo. Other People's Indifference Is The Only Horror.

Everyone Is Isolated From Everyone Else. The Concept Of Society Is Like A Cushion To Protect Us From The Knowledge Of That Isolation. A Fiction That Serves As An Anesthetic.

One Never Took The Time To Savour The Details; One Said: Another Day, But Always With The Hidden Knowledge That Each Day Was Unique And Fatal, That There Never Would Be A Return, Another Time.

The Only Thing That Makes Life Worth Living Is The Possibility Of Experiencing Now And Then A Perfect Moment. And Perhaps Even More Than That, It's Having The Ability To Recall Such Moments In Their Totality, To Contemplate Them Like Jewels.