I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?

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

History is nothing but a procession of false Absolutes, a series of temples raised to pretexts, a degradation of the mind before the Improbable.

Word - that invisible dagger.

Were we to undertake an exhaustive self-scrutiny, disgust would paralyze us, we would be doomed to a thankless existence.

We derive our vitality from our store of madness.

Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: Something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of some day meeting yourself again.