What a pity that 'nothingness' has been devalued by an abuse of it made by philosophers unworthy of it!

Tyranny destroys or strengthens the individual; freedom enervates him, until he becomes no more than a puppet. Man has more chances of saving himself by hell than by paradise.

Anyone can escape into sleep, we are all geniuses when we dream, the butcher's the poet's equal there.

Maniacs of Procreation, bipeds with devalued faces, we have lost all appeal for each other.

I have all the defects of other people yet everything they do seems to me inconceivable.

Consider love: is there a nobler outpouring, a rapture less suspect? Its shudders rival music, compete with the tears of solitude and of ecstasy: sublime...but a sublimity inseperable from the urinary tract: transports bordering upon excretion, a heaven of the glands, sudden sancitity of the orifices. It takes no more than a moment of attention for this intoxication, shaken, to cast you back into the ordures of physiology or a moment of fatigue to recognize that so much ardor produces only a variety of mucous.

I seem to myself, among civilized men, an intruder, a troglodyte enamored of decrepitude, plunged into subversive prayers.