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481 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
I do not yet know what will be written here. But in the strokes of these letters at least some of what was in me will remain, no longer to perish in eddies of mist as if it had never been, or as if I had never known what happened. In this way I will come to see how I became what I am – this self that is a mystery even to me. And yet it is a mystery to me that I have not always been what I am now. I know these lines are muddled; my hand trembles at the task of disentanglement that I face, at the trial I now commence. Here I am everything: judge, witness, and accused.
“If you don’t think blackly, things can get blacker. Nothing depends on you. It doesn’t help to be either brave or cowardly, neither to curse nor to weep; nothing can help you. So sit and wait for your lot, and it’s already black since you’re here. That’s what I think: if you’re not guilty, then it’s their mistake. If you are guilty, then it’s your mistake. If you’re innocent, then misfortune has struck you, as if you’ve fallen into a deep whirlpool. And if you’re not innocent, you’ve earned it, nothing more.”
They dreamed of rulers who were good, but who was that? As far as he was concerned, he dreamed of bribable ones, he liked them the most because there was a way to them. Worst are the honest ones, who need nothing, who have no human weaknesses, and know only about some higher law, which is almost incomprehensible to ordinary men. No one can do more evil than they can. They create enough hatred to last for a hundred years.







“Mi única culpa, si es que la hay, es ser lo que soy”
“Aquella noche no podía permanecer en el jardín, debía alejarme, olvidar, y allí todo me desafiaba: la luna gélida que despedía un intenso hedor a azufre, las flores que emanaban un olor nauseabundo, mareante; era necesario arrancarlas, pisotearlas, reducirlas a cardos y barbecho, construir un cementerio anónimo, aniquilar su poder evocador para que sólo quedara el pensamiento humano desnudo, sin imágenes, sin aromas, sin relación alguna con los objetos de nuestro mundo; era necesario detener el río para que no susurrara burlón y estrangular a los pájaros de las ramas y aleros, uno a uno, para que dejaran de acurrucarse estúpidamente, derruir todos los molinos en cuyas aguas se bañan las muchachas desnudas, atajar las calles, clavetear las puertas, reprimir con violencia la vida para que el mal dejara de bullir”
“… siempre supe lo que debía hacer, la orden pensaba por mí. Los fundamentos de la fe son rígidos y a la vez generosos, nada existía en mí que no pudiera ser incluido en ellos”
“Sería hermoso empezar de nuevo. Pero el principio no existe, no importa, ignoramos cuándo tiene lugar, lo fijamos después cuando ya estamos en plena vorágine, cuando sólo hace que prologarse y empezamos ya a creer que pudo ser diferente, y no”
“La palabra bella es como el árbol bello, enraizado profundamente en la tierra y con las ramas elevadas hacia el cielo” (redacción libre de un versículo del Corán)