We Did Not Lack Modesty—on The Contrary—but

The Anguish Of The Neurotic Individual Is The Same As That Of The Saint. The Neurotic, The Saint Are Engaged In The Same Battle. Their Blood Flows From Similar Wounds. But The First One Gasps And The Other One Gives.

My True Church Is A Whorehouse – The Only One That Gives Me True Satisfaction.

The Sacred Demands The Violation Of What Is Normally The Object Of Terrified Respect.

If I Want To Realize Totality In My Consciousness, I Have To Relate Myself To An Immense, Ludicrous, And Painful Convulsion Of All Of Humanity.

Inner Experience ... Is Not Easily Accessible And, Viewed From The Outside By Intelligence, It Would Even Be Necessary To See In It A Sum Of Distinct Operations, Some Intellectual, Others Aesthetic, Yet Others Moral. ... It Is Only From Within, Lived To The Point Of Terror, That It Appears To Unify That Which Discursive Thought Must Separate.