When we cannot be delivered from ourselves, we delight in devouring ourselves.

My mission is to see things as they are. Exactly contrary of a mission.

What every man who loves his country hopes for in his inmost heart: the suppression of half his compatriots.

By what aberration has suicide, the only truly normal action, become the attribute of the flawed?

The true hero fights and dies in the name of his destiny, and not in the name of a belief.

Nothing sweeter than to drag oneself along behind events; and nothing more reasonable. But without a strong dose of madness, no initiative, no enterprise, no gesture. Reason: the rust of our vitality. It is the madman in us who forces us to adventure; once he abandons us, we are lost; everything depends on him, even our vegetative life; it is he who invites us, who obliges us to breathe, and it is also he who forces our blood to venture through our veins. Once he withdraws, we are alone indeed! We cannot be normal and alive at the same time.

A sudden silence in the middle of a conversation suddenly brings us back to essentials: it reveals how dearly we must pay for the invention of speech.