True confessions are written with tears only. But my tears would drown the world, as my inner fire would reduce it to ashes.

What a pity that 'nothingness' has been devalued by an abuse of it made by philosophers unworthy of it!

We must suffer to the end, to the moment when we stop believing in suffering.

We define only out of despair, we must have a formula... to give a facade tot he void.

Consciousness is much more than the thorn, it is the dagger in the flesh.

We would not be interested in human beings if we did not have the hope of someday meeting someone worse off than ourselves.

Knowledge subverts love: in proportion as we penetrate our secrets, we come to loathe our kind, precisely because they resemble us.