Book: Diaries. Page 6

Invisible life. A notable failure.

Dictated by sense and reason, the artist's task is to incorporate the model in their own artistic vision.

From a primitive point of view, the real, irrefutable, do (martyrdom, sacrifice for another person) from outside do not distort the truth - only physical pain. It is strange that the chief God in the ancient religions was the God of pain (maybe it was only in later). Each patient - their home of God, the pulmonary patient - the God of suffocation.

For everything there is artificial, poor substitutes: for the ancestors, marriage, descendants. Create it in agony and, if not die from these seizures, they are dying of frustration substitute.

A bit calmer. How necessary it was. But as soon as he became a little calmer, as it's too easy. Like I really feel myself only when unbearably unhappy.

Insoluble question, if I'm broken? Die I? All the signs speak for it (coldness, torpor, state of nerves, confusion, the inability to work, headaches, insomnia); almost the only thing that speaks against this, hope.

In fact, I'm incompetent, ignorant man, who would not have forced him to go to school - not willingly, but hardly noticing the coercion - would be able to hide in the doghouse, getting out of it only when he brings the grub, and getting back, swallowing it.

Not find a place. If I owned, left me, and return it - I hardly would be happy.

Me, like other people, there is a calm, confident but laid they are somehow inside out.

Take me in your arms, in depth, take me deep, don't want - let later. Take me, take me - plexus stupidity and pain.

To forget everything. To open the Windows. To make all of the room. The wind will blow her. You can see only the void, to look at all angles and will not find themselves.

To have a man that would understand you, it would mean to have support in everything to have God.

If I were a stranger, watching over me and over my life, I would have to say that everything has come to nothing, to restartitis in perpetual doubt, creative only in self-torture. But as a person interested, I live in hope.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Weakness, self-destruction, erupting out of the ground tongues of Hellfire.