Society is not a disease, it is a disaster. What a stupid miracle that one can live in it.

He who hates himself is not humble.

I saw that philosophy had no power to make my life more bearable. Thus I lost my belief in philosophy.

By virtue of depression, we recall those misdeeds we buried in the depths of our memory. Depression exhumes our shames.

Each of us must pay for the slightest damage he inflicts upon a universe created for indifference and stagnation, sooner or later, he will regret not having left it intact.

Great persecutors are recruited among martyrs whose heads haven't been cut off.

Everything turns on pain; the rest is accessory, even nonexistent, for we remember only what hurts. Painful sensations being the only real ones, it is virtually useless to experience others.