Thus I progressed on the surface of life, in the realm of words as it were, never in reality. All those books barely read, those friends barely loved, those cities barely visited, those women barely possessed! I went through the gestures out of boredom or absent-mindedness. Then came human beings; they wanted to cling, but there was nothing to cling to, and that was unfortunate--for them. As for me, I forgot. I never remembered anything but myself.

This world, such as it is, is not tolerable. Therefore I need the moon, or happiness, or immortality, I need something which is perhaps demented, but which is not of this world.

Revolution, in order to be creative, cannot do without either a moral or metaphysical rule to balance the insanity of history.

The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.

There is but one freedom, to put oneself right with death. After that everything is possible.

We turn toward God only to obtain the impossible.

It is better to burn than to disappear.