Death is a scandal. The machine is functioning, we are all hostages
Every decision is liberating, even if it leads to disaster.
His head is made of stars, but not yet arranged into constellations.
Travelling, one accepts everything; indignation stays at home. One looks, one listens, one is roused to enthusiasm by the most dreadful things because they are new. Good travellers are heartless.
There emanates from superlatives a destructive force.
There is no such thing as an ugly language. Today I hear every language as if it were the only one, and when I hear of one that is dying, it overwhelms me as though it were the death of the earth.