The universal view melts things into a blur.

History proves nothing because it contains everything.

What is pity but the vice of kindness.

Only optimists commit suicide, optimists who no longer succeed at being optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why would they have any to die?

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.

Where are my sensations? They have melted into... me, and what is this me, this self, but the sum of these evaporated sensations?

He who hates himself is not humble.