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.

What pride to discover that nothing belongs to you - what a revelation.

Each time I fail to think about death, I have the impression of cheating, of deceiving someone in me.

To act is to anchor in the imminent future.

The limit of every pain is an even greater pain.

Consider love: is there a nobler outpouring, a rapture less suspect? Its shudders rival music, compete with the tears of solitude and of ecstasy: sublime...but a sublimity inseperable from the urinary tract: transports bordering upon excretion, a heaven of the glands, sudden sancitity of the orifices. It takes no more than a moment of attention for this intoxication, shaken, to cast you back into the ordures of physiology or a moment of fatigue to recognize that so much ardor produces only a variety of mucous.

I foresee the day when we shall read nothing but telegrams and prayers.