What pride to discover that nothing belongs to you - what a revelation.

Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?

What I know at sixty, I knew as well at twenty. Forty years of a long, superfluous, labor of verification.

Losing love is so rich a philosophical ordeal that it makes a hairdresser into a rival of Socrates.

The aphorism is cultivated only by those who have known fear in the midst of words, that fear of collapsing with all the words.

We change ideas like neckties.

If we could see ourselves as others see us, we would vanish on the spot.