I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously? No longer wanting to be a man... dreaming of another form of failure.
Alienation, absurdity, boredom, futility, decay, the tyranny of history, the vulgarities of change, awareness as an agony, reason as disease.
What to think of other people? I ask myself this question each time I make a new acquaintance. So strange does it seem to me that we exist, and that we consent to exist.
What music appeals to in us it is difficult to know; what we do know is that music reaches a zone so deep that madness itself cannot penetrate there.
We must read not to understand others but to understand ourselves.