Crime, particularly among the poor and downtrodden, is often a last gesture of liberty.
We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.
For now it seems that by advancing into unknown territories, I entered into my life
One must never look for happiness: one meets it by the way. 
The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character. 
From every ruin, life springs up again and everything that dies is born again. 
I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life. 
I feel alone, free, and detached from everything in the world, and I'm happy. 
No prayers, no medicines, merely the ineffable happiness of dying. 
The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought. 