A civilization begins to decline the moment Life becomes its sole obsession.

No one can keep his griefs in their prime; they use themselves up.

If I were to be totally sincere, I would say that I do not know why I live and why I do not stop living. The answer probably lies in the irrational character of life which maintains itself without reason.

Philosophy: Impersonal anxiety; refuge among anemic ideas.

An individual dies ... when, instead of taking risks and hurling himself toward being, he cowers within, and takes refuge there.

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

Our first intuitions are the true ones.