A book has to dig through the wounds, more, it has cause a new one, a book it has to be dangerous.

Self-conscious rejection of the absolute is the best way to resist God; thus illusion, the substance of life, is saved.

Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it.

One is and remains a slave as long as one is not cured of hoping.

Only optimists commit suicide, optimists who no longer succeed at being optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why would they have any to die?

Let us not be needlessly bitter: certain failures are sometimes fruitful.

The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.