The desire to die was my one and only concern; to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.

A decadent civilization compromises with its disease, cherishes the virus infecting it, loses its self-respect.

Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!

Each time I fail to think about death, I have the impression of cheating, of deceiving someone in me.

Every thought should recall the ruin of a smile.

Tolerance - the function of an extinguished ardor - tolerance cannot seduce the young.

In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.