Anyone who speaks in the name of others is always an impostor.
Nothing proves that we are more than nothing.
The history of ideas is the history of the grudges of solitary men.
Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on. Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy.
Music is the refuge of souls ulcerated by happiness.
Even when nothing happens, everything seems too much for me. What can be said, then, in the presence of an event, any event?