Philosophers write for professors; thinkers for writers.

We derive our vitality from our store of madness.

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.

In every man sleeps a prophet, and when he wakes there is a little more evil in the world.

Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.

I don’t understand how people can believe in God, even when I myself think of him everyday.

Trees are massacred, houses go up — faces, faces everywhere. Man is spreading. Man is the cancer of the earth.