The multiplication of our kind borders on the obscene; the duty to love them, on the preposterous.

Whenever I happen to be in a city of any size, I marvel that riots do not break out everyday: Massacres, unspeakable carnage, a doomsday chaos. How can so many human beings coexist in a space so confined without hating each other to death?

How important can it be that I suffer and think? My presence in this world will disturb a few tranquil lives and will unsettle the unconscious and pleasant naiveté of others. Although I feel that my tragedy is the greatest in history - greater than the fall of empires - I am nevertheless aware of my total insignificance. I am absolutely persuaded that I am nothing in this universe; yet I feel that mine is the only real existence.

In a republic, that paradise of debility, the politician is a petty tyrant who obeys the laws.

No one should forget: Eros alone can fulfill life; knowledge, never. Only Eros makes sense; knowledge is empty infinity; – for thoughts, there is always time; life has its time; there is no thought that comes too late; any desire can become a regret.

Ideas come as you walk, Nietzsche said. Walking dissipates thoughts, Shankara taught.

If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.