No one can do without some semblance of immortality, and even less will they deny themselves the right to seek it out in the form of this or that reputation, starting with the literary... Since death has come to be accepted by all as the absolute end, everyone writes.

A regret understood by no one: the regret to be a pessimist. It’s not easy to be on the wrong foot with life.

Think of God and not religion, of ecstasy and not mysticism. The difference between the theoretician of faith and the believer is as great as between the psychiatrist and the psychotic.

Life without utopia is suffocating, for the multitude at least: threatened otherwise with petrifaction, the world must have a new madness.

The only free mind is one that, pure of all intimacy with beings or objects, plies its own vacuity.

That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.

To write books is to have a certain relation with original sin. For what is a book if not a loss of innocence, an act of aggression, a repetition of our Fall?