I have just swallowed a terrific mouthful of poison. --Blessed, 
blessed, blessed the advice I was given!

--My guts are on fire. The power of the poison twists my arms and 
legs, cripples me, drives me to the ground. I die of thirst, I 
suffocate, I cannot cry. This is Hell, eternal torment! See how the 
flames rise! I burn as I ought to. Go on, Devil!

I once came close to a conversion to the good and to felicity, 
salvation. How can I describe my vision; the air of Hell is too thick
for hymns! There were millions of delightful creatures in smooth 
spiritual harmony, strength and peace, noble ambitions, I don't know 
what all.

Noble ambitions!

But I am still alive! Suppose damnation is eternal! A man who wants to 
mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he? I believe I am in 
Hell, therefore I am. This is the catechism at work. I am the slave of 
my baptism. You, my parents, have ruined my life, and your own. Poor 
child! --Hell is powerless against pagans. --I am still alive! Later 
on, the delights of damnation will become more profound. A crime, 
quick, and let me fall to nothingness, condemned by human law.

Shut up, will you shut up! Everything here is shame and reproach-- 
Satan saying that the fire is worthless, that my anger is ridiculous 
and silly. --Ah, stop! ...those mistakes someone whispered-- magic 
spells, deceptive odors, childish music-- and to think that I possess 
the truth, that I can have a vision of justice: my judgement is sound 
and firm, I am prime for perfection.... Pride. --My scalp begins to 
tighten. Have mercy! Lord, I am afraid! Water, I thirst, I thirst! 
Ah, childhood, grass and rain, the puddle on the  paving stones, 
Moonlight when the clock strikes twelve.... The devil is in the clock 
tower, right now! Mary! Holy Virgin!... 
--Horrible stupidity.

Look there, are those not honorable men, who wish me well? Come on... 
a pillow over my mouth, they cannot hear me, they are only ghosts. 
Anyway, no one ever thinks of anyone else. Don't let them come closer. 
I must surely stink of burning flesh....

My hallucinations are endless. This is what I've always gone through: 
the end of my faith in history, the neglect of my principles. I shall 
say no more about this; poets and visionaries would be jealous. I am 
the richest one of all, a thousand times, and I will hoard it like the 
sea.

O God-- the clock of life stopped but a moment ago. I am no longer 
within the world.  --Theology is accurate; hell is certainly down 
below-- and heaven is up on high. Ecstacy, nightmare, sleep, in a nest
of flames.

How the mind wanders idly in the country... Satan, Ferdinand, blows 
with the wild seed. . .  Jesus walks on purple thorns but doesn't bend 
them... Jesus used to walk on troubled waters.  In the light of the 
lantern we saw him there, all white, with long brown hair, standing in 
the curve of an emerald wave....

I will tear the veils from every mystery-- mysteries of religion or of 
nature, death, birth, the future, the past, cosmogony, and 
nothingness.  I am a master of phantasmagoria.

Listen!

Every talent is mine! --There is no one here, and there is someone: I 
wouldn't want to waste my treasure. --Shall I give you Afric chants, 
belly dancers? Shall I disappear, shall I begin an attempt to discover 
the Ring? Shall I? I will manufacture gold, and medicines.

Put your faith in me, then; faith comforts, it guides and heals. Come 
unto me all of you-- even the little children-- let me console you, 
let me pour out my heart for you-- my miraculous heart! --Poor men, 
poor laborers! I do not ask for prayers; give me only your trust, and 
I will be happy.

Think of me, now. All this doesn't make me miss the world much. I'm 
lucky not to suffer  more. My life was nothing but sweet stupidities, 
unfortunately.

Bah! I'll make all the ugly faces I can! We are out of the world, 
that's sure. Not a single sound. My sense of touch is gone. Ah, my 
château, my Saxony, my willow woods! Evenings and mornings, nights and 
days.... How tired I am!

I ought to have a special hell for my anger, a hell for my pride-- and 
a hell for sex; a whole symphony of hells!

I am weary, I die. This is the grave and I'm turning into worms, 
horror of horrors! Satan, you clown, you want to dissolve me with your 
charms. Well, I want it. I want it! Stab me with a pitchfork, sprinkle 
me with fire!

Ah! To return to life! To stare at our deformities. And this poison, 
this eternally accursèd embrace! My weakness, and the world's cruelty! 
My God, have pity, hide me, I can't control myself at all! I am 
hidden, and I am not.

And as the Damned soul rises, so does the fire.