The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.

Knowledge subverts love: in proportion as we penetrate our secrets, we come to loathe our kind, precisely because they resemble us.

Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?

One can experience loneliness in two ways: by feeling lonely in the world or by feeling the loneliness of the world.

Intelligence flourishes only in the ages when belief withers.

Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.

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