Nothing But Disaster Follows From Applause.

Our Greatest Pleasure, Surely, Is In Fragments, Just As We Derive The Most Pleasure From Life If We Regard It As A Fragment, Whereas The Whole And The Complete And The Perfect Are Basically Abhorrent.

...he Was Just Scraps Of Words And Dislocated Phrases.

A Criminal Is Undoubtedly A Poor Soul, Who Is Punished For His Poverty.

The Study Of Sickness Is The Most Poetic Of The Sciences.

I Would Be The Unhappiest Person Imaginable, Confronted Daily With Disastrous Works Crying Out With Errors, Imprecision, Carelessness, Amateurishness. I Avoided This Punishment By Destroying Them, I Thought, And Suddenly I Took Great Pleasure In The Word Destroying.