Solitude Does Not Consist In

Wherever He Goes, Whatever He Does, He Will Always See That Word: Murder—immortally Inscribed Upon The Pediment Of That Vast Slaughterhouse—humanity.

When One Tears Away The Veils And Shows Them Naked, People's Souls Give Off Such A Pungent Smell Of Decay.

While All Is New, All Is Beautiful. That Is A Well-known Song. Yes, And The Next Day The Air Changes Into Another One Equally Well Known.

Nothing Comes At All -- Never Anything. And I Cannot Accustom Myself To That. It Is This Monotony, This Absolute Fixity In Life, That Is The Hardest Thing For Me To Endure. I Should Like To Go Away From Here. Go Away? But Where And How? I Do Not Know, And I Stay.

The Universe Appears To Me Like An Immense, Inexorable Torture-garden…passions, Greed, Hatred, And Lies; Social Institutions, Justice, Love, Glory, Heroism, And Religion: These Are Its Monstrous Flowers And Its Hideous Instruments Of Eternal Human Suffering.