There is something here that frightens me. When I figure out what it is that frightens me, I shall also know what I love here. Fear has always guided me toward what I desire. And because I desire, I fear. Often it was fear that took me by the hand and led me. Fear leads me to danger. And everything I love is risky.

Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce- which is called passion.

Amanheci em cólera. Não, não, o mundo não me agrada. A maioria das pessoas estão mortas e não sabem, ou estão vivas com charlatanismo. E o amor, em vez de dar, exige. E quem gosta de nós quer que sejamos alguma coisa de que eles precisam. Mentir dá remorso. E não mentir é um dom que o mundo não merece...

Reality prior to my language exists as an unthinkable thought. . . . life precedes love, bodily matter precedes the body, and one day in its turn language shall have preceded possession of silence.

Love? I wanted to go with him, to be on the stronger side, for him to spare me, like one who seeks shelter in the arms of the enemy to stay far from his arrows. It was different than love, I was finding out: I wanted him as a thirsty person desires water, without feelings, without even wanting to be happy.

E tudo é muito para um coração de repente enfraquecido que só suporta o menos, só pode querer o pouco e aos poucos.

Could it be that the person who sees most, feels and suffers most?

I wonder: why does God demand our love? possible answer: so that we might love ourselves and in loving ourselves, forgive ourselves.

Inside her it was as if death didn’t exist, as if love could weld her, as if eternity were renewal.