Not to be born is undoubtedly the best plan of all. Unfortunately, it is within no one's reach.

Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.

There is not much difference between a mortal man and a dying man. The absurdity of making plans is only slightly more obvious in the second case.

There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.

To Foreswear vengeance is to chain oneself to forgiveness, to flounder in pardon, to be tainted by the hatred smothered within.

There is no means of proving it is preferable to be than not to be.

A distant enemy is always preferable to one at the gate.