What can be said, lacks reality. Only what fails to make its way into words exists and counts.

Between the demand to be clear,and the temptation to be obscure, impossible to decide which deserves more respect.

No one should forget: Eros alone can fulfill life; knowledge, never. Only Eros makes sense; knowledge is empty infinity; – for thoughts, there is always time; life has its time; there is no thought that comes too late; any desire can become a regret.

If I were to be totally sincere, I would say that I do not know why I live and why I do not stop living. The answer probably lies in the irrational character of life which maintains itself without reason.

A book is a suicide postponed.

What every man who loves his country hopes for in his inmost heart: the suppression of half his compatriots.

If we had the courage to confront the doubts we timidly conceive about ourselves, none of us would utter an 'I' without shame.