Wherever we go, we come up against the human, a repulsive ubiquity before which we fall into stupor and revolt, a perplexity on fire.
We interest others by the misfortune we spread around us.
The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.
How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.
Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.
All great ideas should be followed by an exclamation mark - a warning signal similar to the skull and crossbones drawn on high-voltage transformers.