Express Only That Which Cannot Be Expressed.

I Lean Over You, Your Equal, Offering You A Mirror For Your Perfect Nothingness, For Your Shadows Which Are Neither Light Nor Absence Of Light, For This Void Which Contemplates. To All That Which You Are, And, For Our Language, Are Not, I Add A Consciousness. I Make You Experience Your Supreme Identity As A Relationship, I Name You And Define You. You Become A Delicious Passivity.

If Nothing Were Substituted For Everything, It Would Still Be Too Much And Too Little.

The Journal Is Not Essentially A Confession, A Story About Oneself. It Is A Memorial. What Does The Writer Have To Remember? Himself, Who He Is When He Is Not Writing, When He Is Living His Daily Life, When He Is Alive And Real, And Not Dying And Without Truth.

The Less Manifest The Work, The Stronger: As Though A Secret Law Demanded It Always Be Hidden In What It Shows, Thus Showing What Must Remain Hidden, Only Showing It, In The End, By Dissimulation.

The Disaster Ruins Everything, All The While Leaving Everything Intact.