Skepticism is the elegance of anxiety.

Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on. Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy.

My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.

To get up in the morning, wash and then wait for some unforeseen variety of dread or depression. I would give the whole universe and all of Shakespeare for a grain of ataraxy.

I cannot contribute anything to this world because I only have one method: agony.

I seem to myself, among civilized men, an intruder, a troglodyte enamored of decrepitude, plunged into subversive prayers.

There was a time when time did not yet exist. … The rejection of birth is nothing but the nostalgia for this time before time.