Chyene

“But perhaps we ask too much of him. Perhaps he really was only a god.”
― Patrick Suskind

“He hardly went out at all. He took part in corporate life - in the regular meetings and processions of the journeymen - only just often enough as to be conspicuous neither by his absence nor by his presence. He had no friends or close aquantances, but took careful pains not to be considered arrogant or a misfit. He left it to the other journeymen to find his society dull and unprofitable. He was a master in the art of spreading boredom and playing the clumsy fool - though never so egregiously that people might enjoy making fun of him or use him as the butt of some crude practical joke inside the guild. He suceeded in being considered totally uninteresting. People left him alone. And that was all he wanted.”
― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

“April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

“2 November. This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart.”
― Franz Kafka, Diaries, 1910-1923