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

What to think of other people? I ask myself this question each time I make a new acquaintance. So strange does it seem to me that we exist, and that we consent to exist.

I feel completely detached from any country, any group. I am a metaphysically displaced person

History is nothing but a procession of false Absolutes, a series of temples raised to pretexts, a degradation of the mind before the Improbable.

No matter which way we go, it is no better than any other. It is all the same whether you achieve something or not, have faith or not, just as it is all the same whether you cry or remain silent.

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

We dread the future only when we are not sure we can kill ourselves when we want to.