This very second has vanished forever, lost in the anonymous mass of the irrevocable. It will never return. I suffer from this and I do not. Everything is unique - and insignificant.

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

Who Rebels? Who rises in arms? Rarely the slave, but almost always the oppressor turned slave.

To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression. I would give the whole universe and all of Shakespeare for a grain of ataraxy.

A book has to dig through the wounds, more, it has cause a new one, a book it has to be dangerous.

Each of us is born with a share of purity, predestined to be corrupted by our commerce with mankind, by that sin against solitude.

Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.