* It is night: now all fountains speak more loudly. And my soul too is a fountain.
It is night: only now all the songs of the lovers awaken. And my soul too is the song of a lover.
* I myself am the scared crow who once saw you naked and without color; and I flew away when the skeleton beckoned amorously
We are half-open gates, at which the gravediggers wait. And this is our reality…
* Where is innocence?
Where there is will to beget. And whoever wants to create over and beyond him/herself, she/he has the purest will.
Where is beauty?
Where I must will with my entire will; where I want to love and perish so that an image does not remain merely an image.