Robert Walser

How small life is here and how big nothingness. The sky, tired of light, has given everything to the snow. The two trees bow their heads to each other. Clouds cross the world’s silence in a circle dance

I don't want a future, I want a present. To me this appears of greater value. You have a future only when you have no present, and when you have a present, you forget to even think about the future.

I am not here [in the sanitarium] to write, but to be mad.

The novel I am constantly writing is always the same one, and it might be described as a variously sliced-up or torn-apart book of myself.