Book: One summer in hell

You don't know where you're going, why are you going, are everywhere, answer all. To kill you is to kill the corpse. In the morning my mind was so empty, look so dead that those whom I have met me, may not be seen.

I was lucky: I almost do not suffer.

It's already autumn! - But why regret an eternal sun if we are committed to the discovery of divine light, far from people dying from season to season.
L'automne, déjà! - Mais pourquoi regretter un éternel soleil, si nous sommes engagés à la découverte de la clarté divine, - loin des gens qui meurent sur les saisons.

I wrote down in a notebook the silence of the night; I noted the inexpressible. I caught vertigo.
J écrivais des silences, des nuits, je l notais inexprimable. Je fixais des vertiges.

The endless farce! Makes me want to cry my innocence. Life is the farce which everyone plays.
Farce continuelle! Mon innocence me ferait pleurer. La vie est la farce à mener par tous.

Longing no more my love. Rage, debauchery, madness, I know all their impulses and know their defeat is the burden I dropped off. Rate safely how far my virginity.

I can die of earthly love, die of devotion. I left a heart, whose pain will increase because of my care! You have chosen me from the shipwrecked;but those who are left, aren't they my friends?
Save them!

Life is harsh, just savagery. The coffin to lift the withered hand, to sit, panting. No old age, no dangers: horror is not in French.

I will return with limbs of steel ... with dark skin and fierce eyes: looking at this mask, I will be the representative of the stronger race. I will have gold: I'll be idle and brutal. Women care about the fierce cripples....

Action is not life, but a way to waste strength, nerve irritation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

Then I began to explain my magic sophisms with the hallucination of words.
The upshot was that my mind was in complete disarray. I was idle, I was tormented by fever: I began to envy the serenity of animals - caterpillars, who represent the innocence of the vestibule of Paradise, moles symbolizing the virgin sleep.

I followed him, no matter how far he went in his actions, strange and complex, good and bad: I was sure that I never will get to enter his world.

Life flourishes in the work - it is an old truth; but the life that belongs to me, not very powerful, it takes off and circling away from the action, so dear to the modern world.

On the roads, on winter nights, without shelter, without bread, and warm clothes, I heard a voice that penetrated my frozen heart: "the Power or weakness? For you is power! You don't know where you're going or why you're going. Brody was everywhere, all over the answer. Won't kill you, because a corpse cannot be killed". In the morning I had such a blank look in his eyes and such ghastly face that those I met may, I could not see.