How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.

To defy heredity is to defy billions of years, to defy the first cell

Word - that invisible dagger.

Life without utopia is suffocating, for the multitude at least: threatened otherwise with petrifaction, the world must have a new madness.

What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, superfluous, labor of verification.

I don’t understand how people can believe in God, even when I myself think of him everyday.

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.