What is that one crucifixion compared to the daily kind any insomniac endures?

In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.

If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.

Truths begin by a conflict with the police - and end by calling them in.

Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

True confessions are written with tears only. But my tears would drown the world, as my inner fire would reduce it to ashes.

I have no nationality - the best possible status for an intellectual.