I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.

To act is to anchor in an imminent future, so imminent it becomes almost tangible; to act is to feel you are consubstantial with that future.

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

To think is to take a cunning revenge in which we camouflage our baseness and conceal our lower instincts.

Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: Something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of some day meeting yourself again.

Tyranny destroys or strengthens the individual; freedom enervates him, until he becomes no more than a puppet. Man has more chances of saving himself by hell than by paradise.

Every thought derives from a thwarted sensation.