The struggle to the top alone will make a human heart SWELL.

For years I've wanted to live according to everyone else's morals. I've forced myself to live like everyone else, to look like everyone else. I said what was necessary to join together, even when I felt separate. And after all of this, catastrophe came. Now I wander amid the debris, I am lawless, torn to pieces, alone and accepting to be so, resigned to my singularity and to my infirmities. And I must rebuild a truth-after having lived all my life in a sort of lie.

Can one be a saint if God does not exist? That is the only concrete problem I know of today.

Conscious of not being able to separate myself from my time, I have decided to become part of it.

Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being.

It's a kind of spiritual snobbery that makes people think they can be happy without money.

I cling like a miser to the freedom that disappears as soon as there is an excess of things.