What is my nothingness to the stupor that awaits you?

Now I am an outcast. I loathe my country. The best thing for me is a drunken sleep on the beach.

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

I could never throw Love out of the window.

Life is the farce which everyone has to perform.

I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.