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.

We have lost, being born, as much as we shall lose dying: Everything!

There was a time when time did not yet exist. … The rejection of birth is nothing but the nostalgia for this time before time.

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

Does our ferocity not derive from the fact that our instincts are all too interested in other people? If we attended more to ourselves and became the center, the object of our murderous inclinations, the sum of our intolerances would diminish.

However much I have frequented the mystics, deep down I have always sided with the Devil; unable to equal him in power, I have tried to be worthy of him, at least, in insolence, acrimony, arbitrariness and caprice.

Maniacs of Procreation, bipeds with devalued faces, we have lost all appeal for each other.