Man must vanquish himself, must do himself violence, in order to perform the slightest action untainted by evil.

Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

What is that one crucifixion compared to the daily kind any insomniac endures?

Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.

If just once you were depressed for no reason, you have been so all your life without knowing.

We are all geniuses when we dream.

Each of us must pay for the slightest damage he inflicts upon a universe created for indifference and stagnation, sooner or later, he will regret not having left it intact.