You are marked. Don't try to run away.
Certain abilities are deceptive. Neither your bad faith nor your irony can replace strength. Debauchery became your possibility; the way that you want to escape, to rediscover yourself. Not that you should be bound by pleasure. But you can only go, open, happy, toward the worst. What leads beyond the poverty of the hours, of sadness that makes your life the limit of death, cannot leave your mind empty. You won't go back down, even if you want to.
Your business in this world is neither to assure the salvation of a soul thirsty for peace nor to obtain the advantages of money for your body. Your business is the quest of an unknowable destiny. For this you will have to struggle by hating limits—that oppose freedom with the system of conventions. For this you will have to arm yourself with a secret pride and an indomitable will. The advantages that chance has given you—your beauty, your energy and the passion of your life—are required for your laceration.
Beyond the sick ecstasies, you will still have to laugh, entering into death's shadow. At this moment all bonds linking death with solidity will be detached and resolved in you. And I don't know whether you will laugh or cry, discovering your countless sisters in the sky . . .