“I live, like every real man, in my work.” — Max Frisch

Strictly speaking, every citizen above a certain level of income is guilty of some offense.

You can put anything into words, except your own life.

It is only the consciousness of a nonexistence which allows us to realize for moments that we are living.

It's precisely the disappointing stories, which have no proper ending and therefore no proper meaning, that sound true to life.