In a republic, that paradise of debility, the politician is a petty tyrant who obeys the laws.

I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.

The obsession with suicide is characteristic of the man who can neither live nor die, and whose attention never swerves from this double impossibility.

Tears do not burn except in solitude.

By what aberration has suicide, the only truly normal action, become the attribute of the flawed?

Nothing sweeter than to drag oneself along behind events; and nothing more reasonable. But without a strong dose of madness, no initiative, no enterprise, no gesture. Reason: the rust of our vitality. It is the madman in us who forces us to adventure; once he abandons us, we are lost; everything depends on him, even our vegetative life; it is he who invites us, who obliges us to breathe, and it is also he who forces our blood to venture through our veins. Once he withdraws, we are alone indeed! We cannot be normal and alive at the same time.

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