Paradise was unendurable, otherwise the first man would have adapted to it; this world is no less so, since here we regret paradise or anticipate another one. What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.

You are done for - a living dead man - not when you stop loving but stop hating. Hatred preserves: in it, in its chemistry, resides the mystery of life.

That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.

Tears do not burn except in solitude.

Mind, even more deadly to empires than to individuals, erodes them, compromises their solidity.

Everything is pathology, except for indifference.

One hardly saves a world without ruling it.