“People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes out, but
you can’t permanently get deloused. Everywhere I go, people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy.
It’s in the blood now - misfortune, ennui, grief, suicide. The atmosphere is saturated with disaster, frustration, futility.
Scratch and scratch - until there is no skin left. However, the effect upon me is exhilarating. Instead of being discouraged or
depressed, I enjoy it. I am crying for more and more disasters, for bigger calamaties, for grader failures. I want the whole world
to be out of wack, I want everyone to scratch himself to death.”