But above all, in order to be, never try to seem.

I draw from the Absurd three consequences: my revolt, my liberty, my passion.

The Byronic hero, incapable of love, or capable only of an impossible love, suffers endlessly. He is solitary, languid, his condition exhausts him. If he wants to feel alive, it must be in the terrible exaltation of a brief and destructive action.

Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.

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

I am alive again, now that I can no longer stand to live.

Men cry because things are not what they ought to be.