We change ideas like neckties.

Much more than our other needs and endeavors, it is sexuality that puts us on an even footing with our kind: the more we practice it, the more we become like everyone else: it is in the performance of a reputedly bestial function that we prove our status as citizens: nothing is more public than the sexual act.

What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity?

There was a time when time did not yet exist.

The true hero fights and dies in the name of his destiny, and not in the name of a belief.

What to think of other people? I ask myself this question each time I make a new acquaintance. So strange does it seem to me that we exist, and that we consent to exist.

What can be said, lacks reality. Only what fails to make its way into words exists and counts.