Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?

All philosophers should end their days at Pythia's feet. There is only one philosophy, that of unique moments.

I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.

My enthusiasms...constitute my reserves, my unexploited resources, perhaps my future.

You cannot protect your solitude if you cannot make yourself odious.

In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.

To exist is equivalent to an act of faith, a protest against the truth, an interminable prayer. As soon as they consent to live, the unbeliever and the man of faith are fundamentally the same, since both have made the only decision that defines a being.