Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.

The true hero fights and dies in the name of his destiny, and not in the name of a belief.

An individual dies ... when, instead of taking risks and hurling himself toward being, he cowers within, and takes refuge there.

The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.

What music appeals to in us it is difficult to know; what we do know is that music reaches a zone so deep that madness itself cannot penetrate there.

I live only because it is in my power to die when I choose to: without the idea of suicide, I'd have killed myself right away.

Shame on the man who goes to his grave escorted by the miserable hopes that have kept him alive.