Without this ridiculous vanity that takes the form of self-display, and is part of everything and everyone, we would see nothing, and nothing would exist.

He who makes a paradise of his bread makes a hell of his hunger.

Suffering is above, not below. And everyone thinks that suffering is below. And everyone wants to rise.

More grievous than tears is the sight of them.

The shadows: some hide, others reveal.

When I die, I will not see myself die, for the first time.

You can owe nothing, if you give back its light to the sun.