Skepticism is the elegance of anxiety.
There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.
One cannot live without motives. I have no motives left, and I am living.
Lucidity's task: to attain a correct despair, an Olympian ferocity.
One doesn't live in a country, one lives in a language.
Shame on the man who goes to his grave escorted by the miserable hopes that have kept him alive.