A regret understood by no one: the regret to be a pessimist. It’s not easy to be on the wrong foot with life.

Ideas should be neutral. But man animates them with his passions and folly. Impure and turned into beliefs, they take on the appearance of reality. The passage from logic is consummated. Thus are born ideologies, doctrines, and bloody farce.

I cannot contribute anything to this world because I only have one method: agony.

A book has to dig through the wounds, more, it has cause a new one, a book it has to be dangerous.

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.

Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

Self-conscious rejection of the absolute is the best way to resist God; thus illusion, the substance of life, is saved.