We must suffer to the end, to the moment when we stop believing in suffering.
My mission is to suffer for all those who suffer without knowing it. I must pay for them, expiate their unconsciousness, their luck to be ignorant of how unhappy they are.
Philosophers write for professors; thinkers for writers.
Mind, even more deadly to empires than to individuals, erodes them, compromises their solidity.
We interest others by the misfortune we spread around us.
As art sinks into paralysis, artists multiply. This anomaly ceases to be one if we realize that art, on its way to exhaustion, has become both impossible and easy.