...if you aren’t allowed to do something, you do it twice as much somewhere else. Nothing’s more insipid than an indifferent, quick, cheap bit of permission. I like earning everything, experiencing everything, and a laugh, for example, also needs to be thoroughly experienced. When inside me I’m bursting with laughter, when I hardly know what to do with all this hissing gunpowder, then I know what laughing is, then I laughed most laughishly, then I have a complete idea of what was shaking me. So I must firmly suppose and keep it as my strong conviction that rules do gild existence, or at least they silver it, in a word, they make it delectable. For certainly it’s the same with almost all other things and pleasures as it is with the forbidden delectable laugh. Not being allowed to cry, for example, well, that makes crying larger. Doing without love, yes, that means loving. It I oughtn’t to love, I love ten times as much. Everything that’s forbidden lives a hundred times over; thus, if something is supposed to be dead, its life is all the livelier. As in small things, so in big ones. Nicely put, in everyday words, but in everyday things the true truths are found. I’m gabbling somewhat again, aren’t I? I admit that I’m gabbling, but the lines have got to be filled with something. Forbidden fruits, how delectable, how delectable they are!