Under each formula lies a corpse.
As long as one believes in philosophy, one is healthy; sickness begins when one starts to think.
We derive our vitality from our store of madness.
Tolerance cannot seduce the young.
If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.
Ideas should be neutral. But man animates them with his passions and folly. Impure and turned into beliefs, they take on the appearance of reality. The passage from logic is consummated. Thus are born ideologies, doctrines, and bloody farce.