To devastate by language, to blow up the word and with it the world.

The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are.

We would not be interested in human beings if we did not have the hope of someday meeting someone worse off than ourselves.

The obsession with suicide is characteristic of the man who can neither live nor die, and whose attention never swerves from this double impossibility.

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

Every thought should recall the ruin of a smile.

What would be left of our tragedies if an insect were to present us his?