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Suffering makes heroes of no one. We may think: the more intensely we suffer, the more the world will owe us something. That’s a fallacy. People before me have suffered at the highest temperatures, yet no fruit was born of it; their suffering went unnoticed like the rock in the desert or the dying tree. There was no record, no trace, no signal of their suffering, and yet it was so deep, so genuine, so rich in blackness – just like ours. And people after me will suffer just as deeply, and the result will be the same. Suffering builds no staircases to Heaven and produces no screams loud enough to awaken the Dead Universe. It thus follows that it is not worth it to be in love with suffering.