I am obsessed with remembering… remembering the past, in a mixture of a meticulous self-conviction and poetic flair. Time has passed; I’ve begun to try other things to bring myself closer to human reality in general. I don’t consider myself less ignorant than most people… I’ve been, and still am, a seeker, but I have stopped questioning everything; I have begun to pay attention to the teachings my blood whispers to me. My story is neither pleasant nor sweet; it has the taste of chaos and nonsense, of madness and dreams, like the lives of all those who stop deceiving themselves. I live in my dreams; that’s the mysterious enigma you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not their own. That’s the difference.

I had to experience chaos and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, to love it and be glad to belong to it. Like one who has eaten and drunk too much and vomits painfully, and then feels relieved, so I rid myself of these habits of an entirely senseless life. I live in a world of dreams, drives, and desires in which my conscious self desperately built its fragile bridges.

Certainly, you shouldn't go kill somebody or rape a girl, no! But most people haven't reached the point where they can understand the actual meaning of "acceptable" and "unacceptable." What is unacceptable is not something eternal; indeed, it can change. Each of us has to find out what is unacceptable for ourselves, and act on it coherently. I believe it's possible for a person never to transgress a single law and still be a complete idiot. And vice versa.

Words don’t express thoughts well enough; everything expressed in words is one-sided, only half the truth. They always become a little different right after they are expressed, a little twisted, a little veiled. And yet, it also amazes me and seems to me that what is of value and wisdom to one person seems nonsense to another. What could I say that would be of value, except that maybe they seek too much, that as a result of their seeking they cannot find. What could I say to those fleas dreaming of buying themselves a dog, the nobodies, the no-bodied, the no-ones, running like ants, screwed every way, dying through life. Those who are not, but could be, who don’t have religions, but superstitions, who don’t speak languages, but dialects, who don’t create art, but crafts, who don’t have culture, but folklore, who don’t have names, but numbers.

Here is a doctrine at which you will laugh. It seems to me, that love is the most important thing in the world. It might be important to those great thinkers to question the world, to explain and despise it, but I think it is more important to love the world, not to despise it, not for us to hate each other, but to be able to look at the world and all living beings with love and respect.

Compassion is the basis of all morality.