Ah, love! Is love made of rationality? I doubt so. Is it not irrationality itself? If it is, how can one be rational about love? To act in rationality is, and must therefore not a part of love. If he is in love than where is the place of rationality, in this affair? I denounce you, rationality, I tore you and leave you with the wind and in some days after all this irrationality I shall face you again, like a change man, a man who is now humbled by the understanding of this irrationality, of this world and of his indeterminate nature. Or may be, there was no understanding at all, as what is the possibility of rationality understanding, making clear of irrationality. Should there be understanding at all, if there is no such possibility, then what instrument or method shall reveal you, irrationality? What would the effect of you on me? And why should it be negative instead of positive, and what is my preference of this feelings. What is my preference? I wonder? I am now already blind to evil and good, beyond good and evil, beyond, in a state of bewilderment.
What is irrationality? Is it something we should fear? Is it something that we should be, at some point of our life, to be irrational. Is not irrationality a part of life? And to be complete, shall we not experience, infuriate ourselves with this irrationality. We had so much of rationality that, so much so, reality seems to be rationality alone. However, due to its inseparable duality, rationality and irrationality, we are always haunted by irrationality. It whispered to me when I was most unsuspected. It charged at me when I was living such rational live, such rational reality, such rationally deterministic routine, such autonomously repetitive routine, that living a whole live could be just living it yesterday. It seems just yesterday, and today is the end. So rational that the end is already here and tomorrow is determinately today. So what is left to live on?
Irrationality embrace me, take me and command me, make me your slave and I will know you. You are my irrationality. You came into me, in a chance encounter, an encounter which I would treasure forever. You complete me. Alas, I feel good about being irrational, being the other, touching you, exploring you, and be enlighten by you! Who would have understood this exhilaration? I am but a mad man, an irrational fool! Destine to eternal loneliness, even the closest of all man shall forsake me, and the closest of all women would flee in fright. The mad man is coming. This loneliness fills the deepest of the night and sooth the exhilarated me. Come loneliness, I embrace thee.
About his thought, he is constantly talking to himself, constantly questioning, about the crucial aspect of live. What is life?